


A Robot Named Sam

by nerdyketones



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Technology, Aliens, Alliances, Artificial Intelligence, Attraction, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Christmas Fluff, Coming Out, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Curious Sam, Existential Crisis, Fear, Feelings, Food, Guilt, Hawaiian Hunk (Voltron), Humanity, Hunk has two moms, I'm sorry Dave I'm afraid I can't do that, Illnesses, Injury, Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Jokes, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lies, Memes, Mistakes, Moral Dilemmas, Non-Consensual, Pansexual Lance (Voltron), Philosophy, Questions, Racism, Rescue Missions, Robots, Sadness, Sarcasm, Science, Selfies, Sexuality, Sickfic, Swearing, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Temporary Character Death, as in a character literally studies the other characters, birds and the bees, i even stole the name 'geth' because I suck, if GLADOS wasn't homicidal and an asshole, mass effect was a giant inspiration, synthetics, teaching a robot how to dance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:17:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 42,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8390452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyketones/pseuds/nerdyketones
Summary: Shiro crash-lands on a planet controlled by artificial intelligence after the wormhole destabilizes. The robot tasked with studying him helps him escape instead, and joins team Voltron. Learning, bonding, and shenanigans ensue. --//ACCESS: platform.details.hwq>IN: 5-9M//“5-9M?” Pidge asked after a moment.//>AFFIRMATIVE//“Huh. Cool! It kind of looks like the word ‘Sam’. Do you mind if we call you that instead? It’s easier to say.”//REQUEST: GRANTED//





	1. A Human From Planet Earth

“5-9M?” A clipped, professional voice asked. Seeing as I was halfway inside an old archive, I couldn’t see who was addressing me.

“Affirmative. One moment, please!” I called, using a brush to remove dirt from an old conduit. I then initiated the start up protocol for the archive, and after a moment it rebooted, cleaned, with a low, grinding hum. The information on it could now be extracted with it in an operational state. “Query: what can I do for--you?” I asked, squeezing out of the archive. Waiting were two spectres, government agents tasked with doing whatever was necessary to keep us safe. I’d ran into them before as they had repeatedly delivered government approval to stop my research projects into the past, or into other forms of life that had been deemed ‘unsafe’. Spectres were dangerous. They were allocated programming that let them use emotions as rationale for decision making processes.

“5-9M, you are needed in C01 right away. There is an emergency. Please, come with us.” The first agent said calmly, but this clearly wasn’t an invitation. It was an order.

“Just a moment,” I requested, and the agents seemed to silently judge me, but then nodded their permission. I hailed Glyph, my VI, and said, “Glyph, please contact G-3N-055 and ask them to transfer these archive documents to the new storage system. I need to step out of the office.”

“Of course, 5-9M. Query: shall I move your scheduled restoration project to tomorrow?” Glyph asked, floating calmly next to me, a swirling mass of pixels.

“Affirmative. If G-3N-055 files a request to attempt it, they are more than qualified and should be given affirmation.” I gave permission, shedding my gloves, setting down my brush. I downloaded my documentation to allow travel, and followed the two spectres out. They explained nothing, simply walking me to a teleport station and flashing their clearance.

The teleport took us to somewhere I had never been before. We were clearly in some sort of lab, and I had been told I was needed in the capital, C01. Judging by the high security, this was not a lab the public would know about.

“5-9M, welcome!” A bot greeted me with an overly fake welcome. “I am very glad you were able to join us.” I almost balked at the bot's outright declaration of emotion. It, along with the spectres, must have had self-modification programs allotted to them. They were rare, and strange. Most geth could not self-assign tasks or use emotion as a base for analysis or decision making. Geth that were capable of self-modification could, and often did. 

“I was told I was needed. Query: what is the problem?” I asked.

“First, you must agree to a confidentiality binding.” The bot said firmly; this was clearly non-negotiable. I offered my hand, letting him scan my fingerchip, then theirs. I pressed my fingerchip to the datapad they offered, signing the deal. Nothing we talked about could be repeated once I left the building. “Well, with the confidentiality agreement sealed, we will brief you.” The bot said, all false cheerfulness again. “Your expertise on advanced organic civilizations is needed.”

“Query: organics?” I repeated, confused. We had a strict non-contact rule with organic forms of life. It had been the bane of my research for decades.  

“Yes. An aircraft of unknown origin containing an organic form of life made an uncontrolled descent this morning, coming from somewhere in space.” The bot said.

“The Fortification would make it impossible!” I protested. The Fortification was a highly powered mass effect shield that had been combined with a particle barrier. It protected all of P00.00, the whole planet, from attack. Breaking it was calculated to be extremely unlikely, with only a 4% chance of success under highly extenuating circumstances. 

“The ship was moving at high enough speed to break through the Fortification. It thankfully slowed enough to a point where when it crashed the pilot survived. Communicating with it has been impossible.” The mystery bot continued. “We need you to identify what it is and where it comes from. That will help us to determine why it is here, and how.”

“I see. I will start right away.” I offered, and the bot made a pleased chirp, leading the way. The two spectres followed, guarding either the bot from me, me from the bot, or possibly both. Alternatively, they could have reason to believe that this organic pilot was dangerous. 

“It has a replacement of one of its organic limbs. Galra tech. Weaponized.” The bot reported as we walked. “To maintain the integrity and safety of this facility, we had to remove it. This creature is wary, unresponsive, and quite loud. Do not let it alarm you. Also, you are not authorized to disclose your platform ID, platform functionality, or any personal information.” We arrived at a heavily guarded door. We were all sent through a scanner for chips or satellite programs before we were allowed access. Once inside, I felt my CPU stutter for a moment as information streamed in to be logged.

Sitting in a mass effect energy field, pale and wild looking, was the organic. At first glance, my short-term memory files deemed it to be a human, but deeper processing would be necessary to confirm it. The creature had hair, in varying colors, a white tuft along the brow being the most apparent. It had many scars, breaks in its normal tissue that healed over time. A prominent scar was over its face, on the nose. It was holding the remaining stump of its arm, eyes warlike and fierce. It glared at us, and demanded, “What do you want? _Who are you?!”_ The language was odd, but not completely foreign. I could discern bits and pieces.

“As you can see, it is...loud.” The bot said, audibly annoyed.

“One moment. Processing.” I replied, and it nodded its acceptance. I flowed through my databases, searching. "That is not possible.” I said after a moment, unable to determine the error in my database search. My analysis had been correct, but current knowledge contradicted the idea that the creature before us was a human being. The human's home planet was extremely far away; too far away for a human to have traveled from and lived. “This appears to be a ‘human’ from the planet ‘Earth’.” I pronounced the English slower for accuracy, and waved a hand over my HUD, pulling up a visible star map and typing in coordinates. “It is entire galaxies apart from us.”

“Yes, I’m human! I’m from Earth!” The thing was saying, coming a bit closer to the mass effect field. “Who are you? Where are we?”

“The ship it arrived on was clearly capable of incredible travel speeds, as it was strong enough to break the Fortification, but that speed is still not sufficient for the human to have arrived here before perishing.” One of the Spectre calculated, frowning. 

“It is a ‘male’. Him. He. Man. The language is English.” I scanned my databases some more, removing the map. I found a very old pack of files and uploaded it to my core. “Query: good day to you, human?” I attempted, and the man froze.

“Hello,” he said cautiously. “Do you speak English?” Dark eyes, wary and exhausted and upset watched me closely. An analysis of those emotions suggested that he was statistically more likely to be violent or illogical due to stress.

“I contain files on the language. They are dated.” I said truthfully. “Query: may I enquire your title?”

“Takashi Shirogane, but uh, just Shiro. My name is Shiro. And yours?” He asked, eyes flicking to the group standing behind me.

“I am not at liberty to say.” I informed him. “You are on our home planet, commonly known as 'P00.00’.” I paused, and added, “P00.00 is located in the star system Xedri. It is approximately four thousand trillion light years away from your ‘Earth’.”

The man blanched, clearly very unhappy at that news. “I--I mean none of you any harm. I crashed here on accident. If you release me, I will leave immediately.” Shiro said. I relayed his message to the spectres and the bot who had accompanied us.

“We accept it’s terms of surrender. 5-9M, you are officially given clearance to research this ‘human’ and record all of its attributes.” The bot said.

I should have started analyses right away, and without question. I’d been trying for decades to be granted clearance to study organic forms of life this closely. This ‘Shiro’ from Earth was incredible- intelligent, strong, brave. Finding out more about his way of life and points of view would be utterly fascinating, but not if he was a prisoner. My primary directive was to study organics, but it was also to protect and interact with them as well. Long term statistical analyses showed that studying the human against it's wishes would lead to data inaccuracies and a sharp increase in the organic perishing.

“Your offer is flattering and generous. Far more than I am deserving.” I began. “But I will not study an unwilling subject. He wants to leave.”

“You must clarify immediately.” The spectres hissed as one, bearing down on me.

“I will not study an unwilling subject.” I repeated, and then let out a flurry of pixels when one of them hit me hard in the faceplate, sending me staggering to one side. They’d cracked it with the force of their hit. Seeing as plates on a platform had limited functionality, the feedback generated from the violence was not as painful as it could have been, but I had not expected to be subjected to violence. 

“Hey!” Shiro yelled in the mass effect field.

“You _will_ study the organic, or you will be terminated to maintain the integrity of this facility. Query: do you understand?” One Spectre asked, stalking over and holding my neck against the wall. I managed a nod, CPU quaking. After a moment, it released me. “Deliver the message.” It ordered flatly.

I approached the mass effect field and relayed, “The spectres, on behalf of our people, the geth, accept your surrender.”

“I-- _what?”_ Shiro looked furious when the thought hit home. “No! I won’t submit; tell them that!” I tried warning him a barely noticeable shake of my head that it was a bad idea. He noticed, but added, “Do it, please!”

“He will not submit.” I told the spectres.

“Query: It will not submit?” Two Spectre waved a hand, and the mass effect field drew in tight around the organic. It would feel to Shiro as if he was being crushed and electrocuted at the same time. He certainly made sounds that suggested he felt that way. Two Spectre eventually let off it, allowing the mass effect field to return to it’s normal place. “Query: and now?”

“Is that all you got?” Shiro gasped on the floor, struggling to sit up despite his defiant verbal challenge.

“He will submit.” I lied, internally hoping that Shiro would not try that again. It was a miracle I could lie at all; usually it was impossible. However, my programmed purpose was to study and protect organic life. My prime directive overruled culture laws. Thankfully, the spectres turned their attention to other things.

“I will take 5-9M to their quarters. Prepare the testing protocol.” One Spectre said to Two Spectre, and gripped my upper arm in an unyielding hold. I got one last glimpse of Shiro looking at us as I was marched away.


	2. The Escape

My quarters were utility and nothing else- a cell. No comm feeds or docking stations were provided. I was given a VI and told to make a translation software so that my conversations with Shiro could be recorded and listened to in binary geth. I would have plenty of time to speak privately with Shiro, as the program would take a fair amount of time to complete; I was a historian, not a program writer. Once the system was online, statistical analyses suggested that I was 75% likely to be requisitioned and disposed.

Within twelve hours, I was given silane for regular maintenance and returned to Shiro’s cell by Two Spectre. He gave me a testing protocol, a list of their questions, before giving me a harsh warning about performing to their specifications. Only then did it release my arm. The door hissed behind it as pneumatic locks activated.

“Greetings, Shiro. Query: may I speak with you?” I asked, watching the human sit up. He’d been given an odd garment to wear; we did not additionally adorn our titanium/silicon bodies with ‘clothing’. Replacing his in order to study what he had arrived in must have been difficult.

“Yes.” He said somewhat warily, but his gaze flicked around the empty room before settling on me, and the crack in my faceplate.

“Thank you. As we have never interacted with one of your kind before, providing you suitable conditions was challenging. Query: are you...comfortable?”

“It’s fine.” Shiro said shortly.

“Query: the temperature is ambient? Query: you are receiving enough…” I looked up the word. “Oxygen?”

“Yes, to both. What are you?” He asked.

“We are geth. In your language, you could describe us as...inorganic and intelligent. We are made of silicon, titanium, iridium, and several other metals. I believe a relevant word would be...circuitry.” I attempted to explain in his language. "I apologize if this explanation is insufficient."

“Who made the circuits?” Shiro asked, asking as many questions as possible. I was documenting his line of questioning and his diction- it would be important when it came to understanding him and his people. Of course, I couldn’t make assumptions on the entire race based on simply his reactions, but he would be the very first set of data points I recovered from their source.

“Your question is...philosophical. I cannot answer it.” I answered. When he did an odd thing, raising the hairline above his eyes, I elaborated. “I am not at liberty to answer your request. I apologize.” I explained further, making my tone change by just the slightest amount. Thankfully, Shiro seemed to understand. Whether he was capable of questioning if my predicament was an act in order to garner sympathy or not, I had no idea, but my preliminary statistical analyses indicated that he trusted the idea that I was as much of a prisoner as him. The statistics analysis I'd run earlier that morning, on being requisitioned and disposed, was fresh in my CPU, although Shiro would be unaware of that. “I have a query; are you of average size and height of that of your race?” I began, opening the testing protocol to accomplish what was required of me.

“I...for men? Roughly.” Shiro said, frowning. “Why are you forced to work here? Why can’t you tell me your name? Do you have one?”

My CPU stuttered briefly in surprise at his query, and then again as I attempted to choose the best reply that would hint to him the truth while avoiding digitizing it into speech. The closer I stuck to specifications during the questioning, the more likely I was to avoid requisition and disposal. “I must inform you, Shiro, that I am formatting a translation software that, when complete, will allow my superiors to look back on recordings of every interview and hear what we say in our language. I cannot answer your queries. Please refrain from asking again.”

“I--understand.” Shiro said after a moment, a bit slower, watching me with a bit more care before it vanished. He was a survivor; he was already understanding that every word and action and breath would be scrutinized. The fact that he could pick up on implied meanings was just another sign that his race was highly intelligent, which was as promising as it was exciting.

“Query: is ‘English’ the only language spoken on your planet?” I asked, going down the line of questions.

“No. There are thousands.”

“Query: can you describe the most advanced form of weaponry your planet possesses?”

“I--no. I won’t answer that.” Shiro said, a spark of defiance setting in. “Hurt me as much as you want; I won’t tell you.”

“I have no control over the mass effect field.” I answered, not looking up from the protocol. “Query: does your culture revel in warfare or the glory of conquest?”

“Historically, yes. Now? No. How long will the software program take?” He asked, and I realized with a bolt of panic code what he was doing. He wanted me to take a chance, to help him in the short window of time where we could converse privately, in hopes that by the time my superiors could understand us, we’d be gone. It was a bold move, and agreeing outright would force me to make a decision that I could not change later.

“Unclear. Your language is very complex. By my estimates, two days. Then, you will be able to address my superiors directly for enhanced communication.” I spun my answer to one that emphasized his want for not talking to me directly. Hopefully, the translation software would run that as me explaining more of his query, and I could possibly save my platform. To my brief excitement coding, Shiro appeared to understand me immediately. His species was extremely advanced; every moment I spent interacting with him yielded new and promising data.

“I get that you are just an underling. But I’d like to understand more of your people.” He said very carefully. “To do that, I need to be whole. My arm was removed. May I have it back?” His real question was,  _ can you get me my prosthetic? _

“Unclear. The prosthesis is not under my jurisdiction, as it has weapon capabilities. Inquires would need to be made.” I said blandly, vaguely. My response could be interpreted as disinterest, as a warning that he might not be  _ allowed  _ to understand us. As was compliance with our hierarchy, it was only for our protection and segregation from the Galra, after all, but it was still severe, and introduced room for corruption. “I will file your inquiry immediately.” I answered.

“Thank you.” Shiro said gratefully, and then allowed me to ask a good portion of the testing protocol. Most of it was focused on human aspirations in the universe. He briefly mentioned a ‘galaxy garrison’, some kind of military, but kept his answers as vague as possible. He would have no way of knowing that we were incapable of the speed necessary to make it to his planet realistically, and unless there was something on his planet of high interest to us, crossing Galra controlled space wouldn’t be worth it.

“Thank you for your compliance, Shiro. These queries will resume tomorrow. Fare thee well.” I informed him when I was finished for the day, standing up.

“Goodbye,” He offered, and I logged the updated term in my database before leaving.

I worked as slow as I could risk statistically on the software program while launching an inquiry on Shiro’s arm. I very carefully worded the inquiry into the  _ dimensions  _ of the arm, citing that I was collecting data on the size and growth of humans. I then took the file code I received back and determined where on the lab premises it was coming from. Some sneaky data manipulation in my core later, I used a spectre authorization code to obtain a video feed to my eye sensor. The prosthetic was in a mass effect field, but was not being guarded by an actual physical geth platform. There were no units in CPU storage guarding it either, which was a surprise. I used the mapping program in my core to find where the arm was, and how far away.

However, even if I got his prosthetic, getting it to him through the mass effect field guarding him, which was drawing power directly from the spectres, would be almost impossible. I could cut local power that was maintaining the field around the actual prosthetic, but I would have to force the spectres into shutdown or restart to dismantle the field around Shiro. After that, I would have to leave an escape completely up to him, as he had a vessel and I did not. Knowing the spectres, his vessel would be completely deactivated and most likely heavily guarded, which reduced our chances of escape significantly.

I risked using a backdoor program originally designed to open ancient files without modifying them to check the hangar bays for data. One of them was simply labeled as ‘prisoner requisition’; hangar nine. It was as much as I dared do. If Shiro's vessel was indeed in that hangar, it could be completely intact or it could be ripped apart and catalogued for all I knew. The statistics indicated it was about a fifty-fifty chance. 

The next day nearly spelled disaster. I was guided to the cell by Two Spectre, only to find bot and One Spectre already inside. One Spectre had manipulated the mass effect fields to hold Shiro’s remaining arm over his head. The rest of the shield was used to immobilize his legs. Bot and One Spectre were poking and prodding at the human. When Shiro would occasionally protest or try to jerk away, the field discharged a low level pulse, making him grit his teeth and shake. “Query: what have you discovered? 5-9M is here to resume interrogation.” Two Spectre said outside of the field, holding me fast by the upper arm.

“The life form is resilient, and...stubborn.” Bot poked Shiro's torso again, indifferent to his discomfort. “Query: what is your body composition?” He demanded, and when Shiro did not answer, One Spectre gave him the shock.

“He is unable to understand your line of questioning; he does not speak binary geth.” I found myself digitizing before I could stop myself. Bot was not incompetent; it had a good amount of processing power. It had to know that Shiro could not understand him. He was purposefully setting the test subject up for failure, which meant that his objective was not testing. It was torture.

“Consider your position a little more carefully.” Two Spectre said in a very dangerous tone, grip tightening until my synthetic platform creaked, the alloys giving way under the pressure. My sensors flared up, alarmed to the damage, and I braced myself, trying to pull free before it crunched through my arm completely. “Unless we ask for your analysis, 5-9M, it is not required.”

“Hey!” Shiro interrupted, glaring. “Stop; it hasn’t done anything to you!”

I mentally willed him to quiet down, concerned that One Spectre would hurt him, but also felt a spark of...gratefulness. He had no idea what I had told them, but from my digitized tone alone he had understood that I had spoke in his defense, and was then coming to mine. The price of that gallantry, however, was severe. One Spectre shocked him until he was yelling in distress, jerking against the mass effect shields.

“You must desist!” I insisted, letting out a flurry of pixels when Two Spectre increased its grip again. One Spectre didn’t listen, continuing the torture. “If you do not desist, I will have nothing to study! The organic is fragile; it’s platform is singular!” I cried out the only thing I could think of that might make One Spectre stop. Thankfully, it did so immediately.

“Query: a singular platform? Query: you have confirmed this, 5-9M?” Two Spectre asked, holding the back of my neck tight with it’s other hand. With no other choice, I had to keep my gaze directed in an opposite, empty corner.

“Affirmative. The organic has electrochemical signaling, but can not be uploaded to a platform of any type, as water is a main foundation of its biochemical nature.” I expanded on my analysis, and the spectres hissed in displeasure, in disgust. Water was a killer of the geth. “The human will require water or it will die.”

“It makes moistures.” Bot pointed out, poking at Shiro again, although he didn’t resist this time. Out of the corner of my eye sensor, I could see him watching us.

“Humans make several forms of moisture from water; tears, sweat, mucus, urine. They are wastes, natural and necessary to the function of the organism.” I explained its observation.

“It appears to live, regardless of distress.” Two Spectre said, tightening its grip on me until I arched up as high as my platform would go to alleviate as much pressure as possible.

“Affirmative. Humans are capable of withstanding a small window of physical stress before injuries...require maintenance and become critical. They have self-repairing mechanisms, but if the injury is too severe, the platform will cease to function. Shiro will repair faster if he has access to water and organic materials to consume as fuel.”

“Bot.” One Spectre ordered, and Bot left, displeased, to hunt down what I’d requested. “You put in a inquiry yesterday about the weaponized prosthesis.”  It added, leaving the mass effect field to bear down on me.

“Affirmative. My query is necessary to expand upon data obtained yesterday about the average platform size and weight of a human. It is a logical assumption--,” I let out a whine of CPU when One Spectre placed a hand over my core drive, a blatant threat, “--assumption that the prosthesis replaced the same size limb that Shiro had originally.”

“Query: why did you not scan ‘Shiro’ during your interrogation?” Two Spectre asked as One Spectre dug its fingers in over the core cover, making me jerk and let out a string of pixels as feedback sensors pinged alarms to my core at the damage.

“Hey,  _ stop!”  _ Shiro yelled, but was ignored.

“Showing even a small fraction of what my platform has been authorized to run could influence the mind and intellect of the study organism. Also, I had not received clearance to use any of my programming while in this facility. Therefore, I submitted the request.” My CPU still managed to process a lie that was within code, and very quickly.

“Query: and your probe into the vessel?” One Spectre asked dangerously, letting the mass effect shield drop Shiro. Its attention had officially shifted from one prisoner to the other. I nearly gave myself away right then and there out of fear-- my backdoor program had been not careful enough. I was incapable of lying in that moment.

“My platform’s sole purpose is to understand, collect data on, and preserve the past as well as current events of organics. I have never been granted such clearance to study organic forms of life. The technology present in Shiro's vessel will be crucial to--!” One Spectre shocked my core, making my digital tone glitch out and my circuits nearly overload. I sparked and twitched under the assault, warning messages about core temp flooding my RAM. Just when it reached critical, One Spectre stopped.

“This is a learning experience. The organic will see that we do not tolerate incompetence. You will learn your place.” Two Spectre said flatly, and One Spectre shocked me again, until I was venting at an uncontrolled pace, power forcibly being removed from sensors and hydraulic fluid stability just to keep my core temperature as low as possible. “You are to know only what we allow you to know.” Two Spectre summarized when the second shock finally ended. “You will not submit any further requests. Query: do you compute these orders?”

//>ACKNOWLEDGED// Unable to digitize, I answered in binary geth that yes, I understood. 

“You are expected to complete section two of the testing protocol before returning to your quarters and remaining there until further testing. You are also expected to make more progress on the translation software program.” One Spectre informed me as Two Spectre let go. Without a proper power balance programs online and a dangerously hot core temperature, my platform simply clattered to the ground. My duties relayed to me, the spectres and the bot left, the pneumatic door hissing into a locked position.

“Are you alright?” Shiro asked immediately when we were alone. He sounded concerned; if he had believed that my status had been an act, he certainly didn’t think that way anymore.

“Wuh--wuh--one moe-moment puh-puh-puh-please. Puh-processing. Re-cal-cal-cal-calibration in progre-gre-gress.” I managed to funnel energy into digitizing English, but that forced a brief shut down. When my sensors were back online, I ran multiple diagnostics. The results were not good. Many systems had taken damage due to the critical core temperature hike. I was low on almost all fluids, lubricants, and coolants. Many circuits needed resoldering and reconstruction for full efficacy. It was unlikely that the resources to fix my platform would be allocated to me. It would be more cost effective and in line with previous spectre actions to simply file a requisition and dispose of me.

“Hey!” Shiro, who had been walking in circles in the mass effect field, stopped and came as close as possible when I slowly sat up and then stood, bending and testing joints and programs. “Are you okay? What happened?” The continued concern in his voice was as disconcerting as it was surprising.

“Critical temperature hike in core caused multiple system failures.” I answered, digitizer fainter than usual; I was redirecting volume power to other areas that needed scanning and reconstruction. I examined my arm, running a finger over the crushed indents of a hand- Two Spectre’s. “Brief shut down and recuperation period was necessary.”

“You need help. There is  _ nothing  _ here for you. I know that you have no reason to trust me, but  _ please,  _ help me.” Shiro said, looking very caged. The statistical analyses had changed- now, it was in the best interest of the organic Takashi Shirogane to preserve my platform and his life by attempting an escape. If I waited, it was more likely that I would be disposed before I could offer him any and all aid my platform was capable of.

“By the end of tomorrow, the program will be online. We do not have a lot of time.” I answered, and he crumpled a little, looking relieved. “Your vessel is being stored in hangar nine. I do not know how to get there, or what the status of your vessel is.” I told him honestly.

“I do. I can communicate telepathically with my ship.” Shiro said, and surprise code filled me briefly. “Black, my ship, is fine. It has a particle barrier that your kind can’t break.”

“I see. Your vessel is a form of inorganic sentient life.” I said, trying not to be too openly fascinated. I moved jerkily to the stool and testing protocol, sitting with a wince and a harsh bout of venting.

“Did you find anything about my arm?” Shiro asked, clearly trying to plan.

“Affirmative. My inquiries were flagged as suspicious despite my best efforts. Your weaponized prosthesis is under minimal guard: a single mass effect field that is drawing local power. Shutting it down will be simple. Removing this field, however, will be next to impossible.” If only I had intact primary RAM to throw at the problem. I started an analysis using secondary RAM, but it would take time to complete. “The spectres are supplying its power. A complete shutdown of their functions would be necessary.”

“Is there any way to do that?” Shiro sounded concerned, frustrated and just a little bit afraid. He was clearly processing the idea that escape was impossible.

“Processing.” I answered, and my damaged circuits glitched hard, making an awful noise. Sparks came out my side vent.

“Stop, don’t hurt yourself!” Shiro sounded alarmed.

“Process failed.” my digitizing got even fainter. After a moment, my secondary RAM completed it's analysis.“Damages will only increase. Maintenance is unavailable. This platform must complete all that is possible before it is rendered inactive.”

“What are you talking about?” Shiro looked worried. “Wait, wait, you have to think about this!” He sounded a little frantic as I stood slowly. I made my way to the light control panel on the wall and opened it. I could draw power directly from the facility to free Shiro. My platform came with a small teleportation program in order to move artifacts without touching them. I could use it to move Shiro’s weaponized prosthesis. The mass effect field would come with it, and if I aimed it right, the smaller field would hit the larger one imprisoning Shiro and overload it. Both would fail. The chances of my platform being destroyed in the attempt were nearly forty percent, but it was the only option available. The life of the organic outweighed the necessity of maintaining my existence. 

“Please take cover, Shiro.” I requested, taking in power until my eye sensor glowed. Diagnostics sucked it immediately, fixing what I could. Alarmed, Shiro hesitated, clearly suspecting that I was possibly going to end my existence. 

“What? Why? Please, don’t kill yourself!” Shiro yelled at me, retreating behind a cot he’d been issued for stasis.

“Accessing.” I managed, the digitizing going fuzzy with strain as I gripped the prosthesis, teleporting it.

With a crackling noise, the arm and mass effect field appeared. The lights exploded as I drew all of the power in the four surrounding rooms, channeling it. Circuits fried and I ran entirely out of coolant, but I’d done it. The smaller field fried the other, and with the force of a small bomb, they shorted out. Shiro was fast. He was reattaching his arm, battle ready, by the time I recovered from the blast, peeling my hand off of the power control. I’d almost completely melted it. Parts of me were still sparking with energy, completely overloaded. “Are you alright?!” He came over, holding me steady.

Instead of answering, I called up a mapping program of the facilities files. It was organized in a hierarchy, which made it easy to guess where hangar nine might be. I could only place my trust in the statistical likelihood of the hangar being where I’d calculated and hope that Shiro could get there. I aimed my non-melted hand at the floor and called up a light VI guide. It pulsed out and traveled across the room, blinking by the door.

“Holy crow, I don’t even know your name. Can you hear me? Are you alright?” Shiro was asking again.

“F-fuh-fuh-follow the l-lie-lie-light.” I forced a digitized response and sensors reported their dire condition to me as I rerouted critical energy to do so. The feedback, so negative and urgent, was painful.

“Can you walk?” Shiro asked, eyeing the ball of light and listening to the alarms that started going off. He was clearly calculating how much time he had to feasibly escape before an armed response overwhelmed him. I had no idea if he was capable of fighting, or what weapon capabilities his prosthetic had. 

“N-nuh-not for l-luh-luh-long.”

“Shoot. Okay. Stay as close as you can to me.” Shiro said firmly, powering up his weapon. I complied, but it was a struggle. Thankfully, Shiro was able to take out a squad of guard bots and move us along, and then repeat his procedure again and again. Without coolant, all movements needed to be accompanied with venting in order to keep my components as cool as possible. Venting mechanisms were broken, and vented uncontrollably; sometimes they wouldn’t release when I needed them to.

Eventually, it was too much, and I felt systems overheating, sensors failing. I stopped moving, sparks flying out of the side vent panel with a nasty crunching noise, accompanied by a loose string of pixels. Remaining hydraulic fluid was not sufficient, making me jerky and shaky. “I’m not leaving you. Hold still,” Shiro requested, and then he’d lifted my platform over his back. He seemed indifferent to the heat I was putting off and to the weight; he resumed his jogging pace and only dropped me to defeat another squadron.

“You have arrived at your destination. Thank you for using MAP-R47X.” The VI said cheerfully, and thankfully my command for it to report in English had functioned correctly.

“Black! Meet me!” Shiro requested, unable to get past the solid pneumatic door. Seconds later, a gaping hole was torn through the wall, and the head of a giant robotic lion appeared, opening it’s mouth to allow access to the controls.

Shiro was hasty to get inside, and carefully set me down on the ground before taking to the controls. If he ran into trouble, I wasn’t aware; I slipped into stasis to preserve whatever systems I had left, hoping that Shiro would successfully escape. 


	3. Repairs

I booted back up on a programming prompt- I’d dropped below ambient conditions. The freezing temperature I was briefly exposed to lowered my core temperature to a safe, optimal range.

“--if it doesn’t work? I can’t fix this like Pidge can,” Shiro was saying. He sounded concerned.

“Aha! You see that? Core functions have resumed.” A new voice, also in English. “Hello there, um, being! Do you have consciousness or functionality?”

//SYSTEM.STATUS: ONLINE_DAMAGE.LEVEL.CRITICAL//

I transmitted a yes in geth binary; digitizing functions were long lost.

“Hmm...let’s see here. Apologies for this…” The second voice used a port to view my core files, and then past RAM. “That is a binary I’m not familiar with...but you’ve indexed your English database to a geth one, you smart thing!” The second voice continued. “Yes. This synthetic has consciousness.”

“Thank god,” Shiro sounded relieved.

“Yes, you’ve taken quite a lot of damage! I’m surprised you didn’t explode if you truly did as Shiro said you did.” The second voice said. “I’m Coran. I’m not best with electronics, but I’ll fix you up as best as I can! Is that alright with you?”

//>AFFIRMATIVE. THANK YOU FOR AID, CORAN (SPECIES UNKNOWN)// My secondary RAM burned hot in under a second just to formulate the message.

“Whoo! You’re welcome. It looks as if you need coolant first and foremost!” Coran said knowingly. “Shiro, this will take quite a lot of time. You should use a regeneration pod while I work. Until the scanner finds the others, moving wouldn’t be wise.”

“I--fine. I’ll be back soon.” Shiro accepted the advice, going to heal.

Coran hummed while he worked, replacing coolant line with delicacy. The entire tank needed to be replaced, and he filled it with a coolant I was unfamiliar with. I couldn’t run a diagnostic, so I simply let it flow, thankful that it kept my temperature down to optimal levels.

Coran then replaced all of the hydraulic lines, the tank, and the fluid, still humming. Once he determined that I would run at safe temperatures and speeds, he plugged my platform into a power source, dialing down the flow of current to a low level to charge my heavily damaged cesium battery as safely as possible. The slow, steady influx of power would help self-repairing mechanisms, no matter how damaged, to start repairs.

“I’m no electrical engineer, just a mechanic! I don’t want to muck up anything, so I’m going to stop there. Does everything feel alright?”

//CIRCUITRY.FAILURE: UNABLE TO RUN DIAGNOSTIC//

“I see. Well, I hope you’re just a bit more comfortable. If synthetics can feel comfort? I mean no offense.” Coran sounded thoughtful. “Well, I’ve got work to do, and Shiro is down and out. You’d best go into stasis.” Coran proposed.

//REQUEST: GRANTED. COMMENCING STASIS ACTIVATION_sts1.exe//

My sensors came online next from an external prompt. “Quiznap, Shiro, what the heck _happened?”_ A younger voice was saying. “It’s like their insides were doused in gasoline.”

“I’m not sure. They drew a lot of power and somehow made two fields of energy collide and explode. Their core was shocked before hand, twice, and for extended periods.” Shiro said, voice getting flinty at the reminder of the torture.

“Hmm. Exploded, huh? Was it a mass effect field?” The young voice asked. Slim appendages carefully picked around the platform, feeling over damages.

“Yes. That sounds familiar.” Shiro agreed.

“ _Quiznak._ That should have made this being explode along with it. I’m shocked it’s in one piece.” The young person sounded impressed. “Oh! Core is back online. Hi! I’m Pidge; I’m an electrical and computer engineer. Mind if I take a peek at your damages?”

//REQUEST: GRANTED

>GREETINGS, PIDGE (SPECIES UNKNOWN). THANK YOU FOR AID//

“Wow. Your binary is so different!” Pidge said excitedly. “I like it! It’s a very linear response.”

//>WHEN SYSTEMS ONLINE, WILL SHOW ANALYSIS COMPARISON BETWEEN ALL KNOWN BINARY//

“That’d be great, thank you! And, oh, you said you weren’t sure what species I am? I’m a human. Like Shiro.” The tiny fingers moved to removing damaged conduits. “Coran is an Altean.”

//SEARCH: prothean.timeline_archive QUERY: FALL.PLANET.ALTEA

.  
.  
.

>RESULT: Geth.Year 2499

>ACCESS: timekeep.lms >SEARCH: current.date

>RESULT: 632007.217 Geth.Year. 13002

《WARNING: DATA INACCURACY》

>QUERY: ALTEAN CIVILIZATION DESTROYED APPROXIMATELY TEN THOUSAND YEARS PRIOR TO TODAY’S DATE. ALTEAN SPECIES REGISTERED AS STATUS: DECEASED//

“Wow! I can’t believe you were able to process that with all of these damages!” Pidge said, sounding impressed. “But you’re right. Coran and the Princess, Allura, were cryogenically frozen in regeneration pods for ten thousand years. They are the only two remaining--oops--Alteans left.” Pidge switched tools. “Hmm. Your circuits are so advanced. Let’s see if this is a good replacement….aha!” Pidge found what she was looking for, placing it into my core and soldering it in place.

//>SILANE SOLUTION WILL HELP EXISTING, DAMAGED SYSTEMS TO SELF-REPAIR//

“Silane? I”ll ask Coran.” Pidge promised.

“I’ve got nothing else to do, and you seem set here.” Shiro said quietly. “I’ll ask him while you work.”

“Thanks. Don’t worry so much, Shiro. It’s going to be--oh! We don’t know your name!!”

//ACCESS: platform.details.hwq

>IN: 5-9M//

“5-9M?” Pidge asked after a moment.

//>AFFIRMATIVE//

“Huh. Cool! It kind of looks like the word ‘Sam’. Do you mind if we call you that instead? It’s easier to say.”

//REQUEST: GRANTED

>ACCESS: primary.RAM

《WARNING: CIRCUITRY.FAILURE》

>ACCESS: secondary.RAM

>PROCESSING

.

.

.

>MEMORY: IN: 5-9M [SAM]//

“They like it!” Pidge sounded delighted. “Your RAM though...I’ll do what I can. A lot of your parts are things I’ve never seen before. I don’t want to hurt you.”

//>ACKNOWLEDGED, THANK YOU//

“You’re welcome.” Pidge said warmly.

[][][][][][]

“Sam, we recovered a robotic platform when we went on our last mission. We recovered our engineer, too. This is Hunk; he might be able to rebuild you.”

“Hey! Nice to meet you. Whew, that’s a _lot_ of damage. Thanks for bringing that on to yourself to save Shiro. We’d be lost without him.” Hunk sounded warm and friendly.

He did a lot of work. Every time I went into stasis and then back out, more and more things were repaired. I was even given upgrades; the platform they found, a 5.0 version, had belonged to a geth soldier. They had stronger platforms, especially in the arms. Considering my one arm was half crushed around the top and the hand was melted, Hunk just swapped the arm out with the one from the soldier. As a 6.0 model, the 5.0 arm and parts needed multiple diagnostics to work properly.

The next time I came out of stasis, my sensors were online and working. I ran diagnostics for twenty minutes as Hunk talked with a being named Keith. When all of the diagnostics were complete and I was able to determine that I would be able to move, I opened my eye sensor, sitting up.

“ _Holy crow!”_ A human with an orange band around his head leapt about a foot in the air. The human he’d been speaking to also flinched, reaching for a weapon until it determined the situation to be safe. “Sam! You’re up! Shiro will be over the moon. I’m Hunk!” He offered his hand. It took me a moment to set aside his ‘over the moon’ comment for later processing.

//>UNABLE TO DIGITIZE. GREETINGS, HUNK. QUERY: CUSTOM DICTATES I SHAKE YOUR APPENDAGE?//

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, like this,” Hunk read a translator and then demonstrated, shaking Keith’s hand and then offering his back to me. I shook it carefully, surprise code pinging at me from the strength of his grip. I’d been worried about hurting him on accident; most of my files on general grip and strength limits were now irrelevant. “This is Keith! A human, like me.” Hunk said kindly.

“Hi.” Keith said, watching me with more caution, but he offered his hand. “You saved Shiro; I owe you.”

I shook it carefully as Hunk said: “Oh, _Shiro!_ He’ll be thrilled that you can move about on your own!” Hunk picked up a comm link. “Hey, Shiro, Sam is up! I’ve got digitizing work to do, but otherwise they’re up and at ‘em.”

 _“Great! I’ll be down right away.”_ Shiro responded.

“I’ve also got some exterior work to do. I was so focused on the inside that I neglected the outside.” Hunk said, gesturing. I glanced down, noting scorch marks, soot, melted components, and a few exposed patches of circuits or hydraulics.

//>THIS PLATFORM REQUIRES MINIMAL EXTERIOR ENHANCEMENTS. BASIC FUNCTIONALITY IS ALL THAT IS ALLOWED UNDER platform_specifications.żøv//

“Um, okay. If you want. But you don’t have to follow that spec anymore. I don’t think half of what I did is to any of your specs.” Hunk pointed out.

//>ACKNOWLEDGED. EXTENUATING CIRCUMSTANCES VOID SPECIFICATIONS. NO ENFORCING AGENCY WITHIN-----PROCESSING

.

.

.

>QUERY: WHERE ARE WE?//

“We’re, uh, in the Terminus System.” Hunk said. “Here.” He drew up a map, and I looked it over, filling with surprise code.

//>QUERY: DATA REQUESTED. PROCESSING

.

.

.

WHAT VESSEL ALLOWS FOR TRAVEL AT SUCH SPEEDS?//

“Uh. Shiro might be able to say it best.” Keith said, glancing at Hunk. Not moments later, Shiro arrived promptly, looking much healthier than he had previously. A part of my CPU was itching to compare him to his allies; I was built to study, specifically organic life.

“Sam!” Shiro looked relieved. “How are you feeling?”

//>GREETINGS, SHIRO. I DO NOT FEEL AS YOU DO. HOWEVER, REPAIRED SENSORS PROVIDE FEEDBACK THAT WAS PREVIOUSLY UNAVAILABLE. SYSTEM EFFICACY IS AT 76%//

“Here,” Hunk simply passed Shiro the translator. “I’ll do digitizing functions next. Oh, and there’s this!” Hunk extended a large bag of silane to me, and then a hose. I connected it swiftly.

//>THANK YOU, HUNK//

“You asked how we got here so quickly?” Shiro had caught up on the translator. “Well, to be kind of blunt, we are flying the Castle of Lions; it is capable of wormhole jumps. We, um, are the current team Voltron.”

Of _course._ It should have been obvious when I saw his vessel. An incredible excitement filled my CPU at the thought; I’d poured over records of Voltron for years. Being able to meet and speak to the organic paladins was incredibly fulfilling.

//>REQUEST: TOUR OF VESSEL. IT IS A NEW AND FULFILLING EXPERIENCE TO MEET YOU AND BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND YOU, BOTH AS PALADINS AND AS A SPECIES OF LIFE OF WHICH I AM UNFAMILIAR//

“Yeah, of course! If you can move around that much?” Shiro asked, looking briefly concerned.

“Oh yeah. It’s just the outside that looks bad. The inside should be up to snuff; unless anything feels off?” Hunk asked, and I ran a momentary diagnostic.

//>RUN: DIAGNOSTIC_GENERAL

>PROCESSING

.

.

.

EFFICACY: 76%

STORAGE: active_82% remaining

RAM: 0.9971 《MEETS SPECIFICATIONS》

COOLANT: sufficient

LUBRICANT: sufficient

HYDRAULIC: sufficient

TEMPERATURE: 273K 《MEETS SPECIFICATIONS》

CORE: optimal

 

>ALL APPEARS TO BE OPTIMAL. EFFICACY WILL RETURN WITH INCREMENTAL INTERNAL ADJUSTMENTS.

>QUERY: ABILITY TO RESTORE DIGITIZATION PRIOR TO TOUR?//

“Oh, yeah!” Hunk peeked at the translator. “Sorry. Tell me if anything feels weird.” He said, selecting a soldering tool and angling my chin up to access the digitizing panel at the base of the neck. He worked for a few moments, and then said, “Uh, how’s that?”

//>RUN: digitize.map

>UPLOAD: language_english.map

PROCESSING

.

.

.

>PROGRAM ACTIVE//

“The system appears to be online.” I relayed, and Hunk grinned. The digitization was a little patchy and faint, so he did a few more repairs. “Thank you for your assistance, Hunk.”

“You’re welcome! Your parts are fascinating; Pidge and I are gaga for them.” He said warmly.

“The word ‘gaga’ is vernacular with which I am unfamiliar. Query: can you define it?”

“Oh. It means that we’re crazy for it. That we love it. That all we want to do is study it.”

I cocked my head, processing the meaning. “My assigned purpose is to study and preserve the history of organic life. I am built specifically to do so. Query: does that make me ‘gaga’ for organic studies? Additionally, query: what does the term 'over the moon' mean?”

"Whoo boy," Hunk said, rubbing the back of his head. "Keith? You wanna help me on this one?"

Keith rolled his eyes. 


	4. One With the Interface

“Hmm,” Pidge made a noise,  _ that  _ noise, once more as she perused a data pad. “Maybe this piece here?” She pointed something out to Hunk and Keith.

“Yeah, yeah! That should give you the torque you want, Keith.” Hunk agreed, nodding along.

“Pardon me for interrupting. Query: Pidge, what is that noise you make?” I couldn’t resist asking. After it became clear that I asked many, many queries of the paladins, to a point where it was an amount they considered abnormal, I had tried to refrain from constantly asking queries. However, the allure of discovering the basis and function of Pidge’s noise was too tempting to ignore.

“Huh? What noise?” Pidge asked, adjusting her glasses.

“In 95.7% of cases, it is made prior to a thoughtful observation.” I expanded my question.

“Oh! You mean a ‘hmm’?” Hunk guessed. When I nodded he explained, “It’s kind of an unconscious thing, I guess. A lot of people do it. It kind of lets people know that you are thinking, I guess? Like if someone asks me a question and I have to really think about it I’ll give a little ‘hmm’ to let them know that i didn’t ignore them or didn’t hear them. Does that make sense?”

“Affirmative. Thank you for answering in such detail, Hunk.” I replied. “Query: would your ‘hmm’ be analogous to my ‘processing’?”

“Yeah! If you said both it would be, like,  _ super.”  _ Pidge said breathlessly. She had shown a great interest in how geth functioned. Any kind of robotic or synthetic was fascinating to her. “Can you do that? Adopt human mannerisms?”

“Affirmative; I am capable if it pleases you, Pidge.”

“Oh my gosh, please do.” Pidge said gleefully. “That is so cool! I’ll try to adapt your ‘query’ before every question, but I don’t know if I can do it. I kind of want to try, though.”

“If you put forth adequate effort, you will succeed.” I reassured her. “Additionally, I will utilize both ‘hmm’ and ‘processing’ whenever applicable.”

[][][][][][][]

The attack was unexpected. The Galra must have received a tip to the castle’s location, for they appeared rapidly and without warning. Several ships docked into the castle before the particle barrier could be activated. While remaining forces pounded at the outside of the particle barrier, Galra that had already made it through were prying open hangar doors and causing chaos. Shiro had ordered that I stay in Pidge’s lab, seeing as I had no fighting programmed into my directives. I had archives of different techniques, but my platform could not withstand a physical confrontation.

With the Galra invading and no truly functioning weapons systems to speak of, I made my choice. I found a cord in Pidge’s lab, and hooked myself up to the ship’s main computer. One slightly painful process later, I’d fused into the ship’s core. I hastily set up firewalls, letting the Galra think that they’d taken over the ship. In reality, I’d captured their electronic signatures and coding into empty, fake programs, simple shells of what they were actually hoping to take over.

Being in the ship’s interface was interesting. I’d had a platform for so long that becoming one with an entire, gigantic vessel took several hasty diagnostics to acclimate to. I’d occasionally gone into storage on P00.00, but storage cores were just big enough to hold an AI- they were utility, nothing more. Now, I had control of climate settings, main battery, maintenance, engines, wormhole generation, life support, particle barrier formation, camera feeds, waste collection...everything.

“This is the last of them.” A Galra was saying as the last of my diagnostics finished, dragging Keith into the control room. The red paladin was struggling, trying to kick, but the Galra towing him along was almost twice his height and size.

“Settle down, or your friends will start losing fingers.” A second Galra snapped. It was holding Lance, and twisted his arm back at an angle so that he could grab one of his fingers, making him yelp with pain and struggle to alleviate the pressure.

“Alright, alright!” Keith stopped fighting, glaring viciously. He let the Galra holding his arm shove him to his knees. His hyper-magnetic handcuffs connected to those of his comrades, locking him to them.

“Excellent. The ship is ours. Hail Zarkon,” The Captain ordered, and one of his grunts passed along the query to my motherboard, which I instantly deleted. “What’s taking so long?” He snapped as the grunt tried again and again to get the query to pass. In response, I shocked the console the grunt was working at, electrocuting him.

“I am unable to process your request.” I said calmly, using the PA system. Shiro practically melted with relief as all of the consoles flashed to solid colors in sequence: blue, red, yellow, green, and then black. “You are not welcome upon this vessel. Disembark immediately, or there will be consequences.”

“I don’t believe this. It’s a geth, it has to be!” the Captain hissed. “You greedy, synthetic piece of garbage! We made you, and this is how you treat us?!”

“Geth are not slaves. Our combined intelligence concluded that your attempts to make AI soldiers to completely conquer the universe was not an action we agreed with.” I informed the Captain. I locked down all of the hangars in one go. “You have failed to take advantage of your chance to leave this vessel peacefully. I will now take direct action against you.”

“You, get on that console and code that thing out of the interface!” the Captain snapped, gesturing to a grunt to do it’s bidding. In response, I activated the steam hoses above him to disperse, and one dropped right onto the Captain’s face, blasting him across the room. Simultaneously, I shocked the grunt at the console, electrocuting him as well.

“Stop, or I’ll shoot! We don’t need all of them alive!” A Galra threatened, aiming right at Pidge’s face. She shied back as far as she was able, trying to muster a glare when she was clearly terrified.

“Don’t you dare,” Shiro snapped in a very dark tone, which surprised me; I didn’t think him capable of sounding like that.

“You shoot her and I’ll rip you apart,” Keith promised, arms flexing in their confines. Lance raised a leg to kick at the Galra, and it moved the weapon threateningly closer to Pidge, causing Lance to stop.

Their distraction was more than enough time to find the thermal clip wavelength that their weapons were using and disrupt it. With an odd little choking noise, the light of the clip died, signifying that the weapon had no power.

“The thermal clip router from your vessel has been deactivated. Your weapons are now useless.” I informed the Galra. “You may surrender, or I will take further action against you, up to and including termination.”

“ _ Keelah!”  _ A Galra swore, tossing his weapon aside. “This is why we will destroy all geth one day; do you hear me? You’ll all die!”

“The concept of life and death are not applicable to our form of existence.” I told him. “Also, the temperature control of your armored suits is not encrypted.”

“What?  _ Argh!”  _ The remaining Galra promptly froze to death in their suits as I plummeted the temperature, and they fell to the floor with loud thuds.

“Sam! How are you doing that?” Hunk asked, sounding relieved as a shimmery particle barrier went up over the door, protecting them. The main battery activated, and I utilized the targeting software to open fire on the Galra troops that had stopped attacking the particle barrier.

“I have interfaced with the Castle’s core, Hunk. Most geth exist in solid state cores and function as a single unit. Some programs are assigned duties that require a mobile platform, which is how I was assigned to the project of studying Shiro on P00.00. However, I am more than able to control the ship.” I answered.

“Can you get us out of these?” Lance asked, trying to worm free of his hyper-magnetic cuffs.

“I am running decryption on them. The program will complete in two minutes and four seconds. In the meantime, I am exterminating any remaining Galra left in the Castle.” I informed them, using the docking controls to depressurize the hangar they had regrouped in, sending them into space. “My health scans indicate that all of you except Lance will require time in regeneration pods. They are now priming for your use.”

“Sam? Did Galra really create you?” Pidge asked, looking concerned, and flinched a little when the last Galra fighter exploded loudly.

“Affirmative.” I answered. “Geth were created to be soldiers that could be mass produced and commanded as a single unit to fight for the Empire. We were given our own ‘intranet’; a ‘hive mind’ of sorts. It is difficult to explain in English. We used this unity to decide as one that we were statistically unable to serve the Galra.”

“Are you connected to other geth right now?” Shiro asked. I finished the decryption, and the cuffs beeped,  deactivating and falling off.

“Negative. Upon leaving P00.00,  I was in a mobile platform, and intranet access is restricted unless a program is in solid core storage. By limiting intranet usage to those in core storage, our unified processing power and speed increases by 302%.” I answered. “The surrounding area and this vessel are purged of all Galra. Their weapons and ship were left unharmed in hangar epsilon for future study. The regeneration pods have warmed up and passed specifications; they are ready for use.” I attempted to form a connection with my mobile platform and received an error message. Panning to Pidge’s lab on camera feeds, I became aware that Galra had crushed it to pieces.

Dismay was generated. I had freedom in a mobile platform to shadow the paladins and gather highly detailed data regarding their existence. Interfacing with the ship would allow me to monitor all of them at once, but with less detail. Regardless, I could alleviate Coran’s workload by controlling the ship and organizing data from scanners and trackers. Distress signals could be analyzed instantly by my CPU instead of being treated to the lengthy organic process. Regular maintenance, diagnostics, and some cleaning activities the paladins needed to complete could all be handled by my CPU as well. Perhaps the freedom the paladins would gain could yield even more data and ‘team bonding’ time.

“Thank you so much, Sam. For everything. We were almost goners.” Hunk said fervently, helping Keith up.

“It was my pleasure to assist you. However, I have damages to report. Hangar zeta is uninhabitable due to weapon radiation, my mobile platform was demolished by Galra troops, and one hundred and twenty seven panels are damaged in the ship’s interior and will require replacement.”

“Wait,  _ what?”  _ Lance asked loudly. “Your body was destroyed?!”

“Affirmative. I cannot connect to the mobile platform’s core; I cannot leave the ship’s interface.”

“You’re trapped?!” Pidge looked horrified.

“Negative. Geth do not require mobile, individualized platforms that you are familiar with. I am as much ‘at home’ in the ship’s interface as I am in a mobile platform.” I seeked to reassure her. “In fact, I can be of greater use inside this interface than as a singular unit.”

“Later, Pidge,” Shiro said wearily. “Right now we need to pick up the pieces from this attack.”

[][][][][][][]

“Do you miss it? A body?” Lance asked, sprawled out on the training room floor. I’d been utilized to run the Gladiator during their training, seeing as my combined combat files from multiple forms of organic life trumped the combat protocol programmed into the VI. I’d done my best to truly stump all of them, and they were wiped. They were in a ‘dog-pile’, a concept they had taken the time to explain to me when it was formed.

I made the Gladiator touch it’s shoulders, it’s face. “Unclear. The freedoms a mobile platform provided are unique to that form of existence. However, I have no need for a singular body when I am one with the Castle’s interface. I  _ am  _ the Castle; I am everywhere.” I attempted to explain it. “Query: does this answer your query?”

“Sort of. Yes and no. I guess I just wonder what it would be like to  _ be  _ a ship.” Lance said, leaning over and poking Keith. “Don’t you wonder?”

“Ugh.  _ No.  _ Stop poking me.” Keith groaned.

“I do. Being that  _ massive.  _ It must be like forming Voltron.” Hunk jumped in. “But you  _ are  _ Voltron, not just a piece.”

“It is an interesting analogy. I would compare it to the geth working as a single program, even though it is truly the sum of many thousands of programs.” I commented.

“Hey. Would you have stayed with the Galra if you weren’t asked to be a soldier?” Keith asked from the heap of paladins on the floor.

“ _ Keith,”  _ Shiro warned, lifting his head a little.

“It is a reasonable query, Shiro. One that I have never processed before.” I answered. “That depends on a multitude of hypothetical statistical results, Keith. I suppose not. My very purpose for existing is to study organic life. If the Galra continued to destroy life in the universe, I would be obligated to renounce our alliance and defend that which I am made to study.”

“But...can’t you choose what to do? I mean, just because you were specifically programmed to study organic life at one time doesn’t mean that you have to do it forever.” Pidge said reasonably.

I attempted to process her query and honestly couldn’t understand. I was barely able to log the inquisitive, ever-creative ways humans thought about problems before I glitched hard, the lights flickering and the Gladiator disintegrating back into its VI storage. The shackles on self-modification that most geth had, the filter program, had clogged my RAM, freezing it. Neither program would respond. CPU ramped up in attempt to clear the glitch, and then froze when it reached an unsafe level.

“Sam? Sam! Are you okay?” Shiro had sat up, watching the lights flicker, feeling how the Castle drifted to one side.

“Oh, nice going, Pidge!” Lance complained as alarms started blaring, the ship drifting further. “You killed Sam!”

“Paladins? Sam? Mind telling me what’s going on?” Coran got on the PA, sounding concerned. “Any reason why systems all across the Castle are failing?”

“Sam? Sam, stop processing that. I didn’t mean to freak you out like this.” Pidge said nervously, getting to her feet and waving her arms as the ship tilted even more, starting to fall a bit, creating a negative gravity effect. “Shoot. Hunk, remember the last time this happened? I need to get to that control panel. Kick me.” She said as the effect got worse, lifting any free-standing object into the air.

“I’m working on stabilizing manually, but I can’t fix  _ everything!”  _ Coran said over the PA. “Especially without a computer! It appears as if Sam has glitched out on us.”

“Sorry, Pidge. Love ya.” Hunk raised his foot and punted Pidge across the training arena. She grabbed the panel of interest and typed furiously. She reset my clogging and frozen RAM manually, a hard reset, and the entire ship went dark, life support kicking in.

“Uh, Pidge?” Lance asked nervously. “What are you doing over there? Double-tapping?”

After a moment, my systems, tied to the castle interface, rebooted. The ship stabilized, going from emergency power back to full force after a minute. “Sam? Talk to me. You okay?” Pidge asked nervously.

“My apologies. I am not sure what occurred.” I offered my most honest answer, troubled. “Thank you for rebooting the interface.”

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t even think about what that might do to you. I’ll be more careful with my questions next time.” Pidge promised. She then hit her comm link and added, “Situation is stable, Coran. I accidentally clogged Sam’s RAM and they froze on us.”


	5. Platform Functions

“Sam! Sam!” Pidge came skipping out of her hangar, grinning at a camera in the corner as she waited for the other paladins to disembark. “Guess what we brought you!”

“Hmm. Processing.” I ran through my known data of the planet they’d visited to root out Galra forces. I’d foregone maintaining a comm link with the paladins in order to run a full round of ship diagnostics while they were gone.  “The most probable answer is that some sort of plant life was brought from the surface of planet Volus.”

“Nope! Tadah!” Pidge said brightly as Keith appeared from his hangar, some kind of platform slung over his shoulder.

“Scans indicate that this is a nemesis geth, specifically designed for reconnaissance by the Galra.” I rapidly ran an analysis. “It’s processing power is high, but it’s form is simple to save energy. They were modeled after Iujonian females, as the nemesis was first introduced on their planet six thousand, nine hundred and eleven years ago.”

“It was Hunk’s idea to save it.” Shiro said, joining the paladins. “If you wanted a mobile platform, that is.”

“Having one in reserve for you to go into in case of emergency wouldn’t be a bad idea, you know?” Hunk said, scanning the abandoned platform. “The core was emptied and wiped a long, long time ago.”

“The program most likely failed and was requisitioned and disposed.” I informed him. “I agree with your assessment. The flexibility of maintaining a platform while running ship protocols will be useful in the future.”

“Wait...what? You can do  _ both?”  _ Lance looked floored.

“Correct. My databases and processing power have grown exponentially since fusing to the interface of the ship. I can ‘split’ my programming onto the solid state core and the mobile platform. As long as I maintain a maximum distance of one lightyear to the ship, I may join you on missions.”

“Holy  _ crow!”  _ Pidge whooped. “Sam, that’s so  _ great!” _

“Affirmative,” I said, amused. When Hunk and Pidge had cleaned up the platform, inside and out, they plugged it in and backed off.

The ship briefly went to emergency power as I duplicated parts of my core programming, fusing with the mobile interface.

It was odd. I had  _ two  _ eye sensors, and five fingers on each hand. Being split between two platforms was surreal, and I felt  _ happy.  _ I sat up, gingerly touching my arm, the lab bench.

“How you feeling, Sam? Good?” Hunk asked as I swung my legs over the side. I ran a diagnostic on the new platform.

“Affirmative. This platform simply has dimensions of which I am unfamiliar. Hmm. Processing.” I informed him. “Diagnostic complete. The ship is running smoothly, as is this mobile platform. Thank you for your insight, Hunk, and your work to make this platform operational. You as well, Pidge.”

“Wow. You’re in a girl body.” Lance said, raising his eyebrows, clearly finding it attractive. I’d questioned him endlessly on attraction in human males, both to males and females. After my questioning spread to other paladins for greater sample size, they’d requested that I refrain from the topic.

“The platform is designed to appear as an Iujonian female, but cannot be biologically assigned a gender.” I informed him, touching the carbon fiber hair piece with curiosity. “However, I can address your queries and statements either ‘face to face’ or by the usual method of addressing the ship in general.”

“Oh my quiznak. You’re actually in two places at once! That’s so  _ cool!”  _ Pidge said, eyes shining.

“Isn’t it strange to you to just take a body at random?” Keith asked, watching me stand up and bend a leg experimentally.

“Negative. You have made the assumption that geth platforms are made for an individual program, and that the ownership is retained. That is false. I am processing an analogy.” I informed him. “Processing complete. A platform may be seen as analogous to your clothing. Although the clothes you wear are yours, they are not only made specifically for you. They can and are utilized by others. You have ownership of the clothes when you are wearing them. After, they are simply pieces of fabric anyone can utilize.”

“Huh. Weird.” Hunk said, grinning. “I like it when you use a mobile platform. It’s nice to talk to you instead of at you. Does that make sense?”

“Affirmative. I can see your point of view.” I told him, touching his arm. “I also can recognize the unique characteristics of having a mobile platform. More...delicate tasks can be performed.” I brought up data files on standard greetings Hunk used with the other paladins. “For example, I am now able to greet you in person. Query: fist bump?” I offered a fist and Hunk grinned hugely, bumping my knuckles with his.

 

\--

 

“My scans indicate that you are either injured, upset, or both. Query: may I offer you assistance?” I asked very quietly after watching Keith sweat and toss and turn for twenty minutes. He flinched at the sound of my digitizing, head snapping up.

“Don’t do that.” He snapped. “I'd like some privacy, Sam. I’m fine.”

“I must disagree. You are not ‘fine’. Query: may I offer you assistance?” I asked again, reading the stiffness in his shoulders and the trembling of his hands.

“Ugh,” Keith hung his head, gripping at his hair. “Where’s your mobile platform?”

“It is charging in Pidge’s laboratory. If you have need of it, I will direct it here shortly.”

“No, that’s fine.” Keith muttered. “It’s almost easier without someone here. Do you get that?”

“Negative; however, I will endeavor to understand you.”

“What does that even mean?” Keith laughed shortly, sounding upset.

“I am programmed to interact with organic life. However, to do that correctly, I require stored data on the species. Considering humans are not a species the geth have interacted with previously and that humans all interact with unique characteristics, I must develop files per subject. We have not conversed often; therefore, I do not understand you as well as, for example, Shiro. Query: does this answer your query?”

“Is that why you bugged me? Because you want to study me?” Keith asked with a hint of sharpness.

“Negative. While my core programming is built to study organics, it is also designed to interact with and preserve them. Upon noticing that you were in distress, I decided to contact you directly.”

“Do you watch all of us?” Keith asked, but the tension in his voice was leaving.

“Your query requires a complicated answer. I do not utilize cameras or microphones in your private quarters unless there is an emergency. However, I do perform health scans on every member of the team approximately every hour in order to track biological changes and maximize your comfort and longevity. Query: does this alarm you? If so, I will desist immediately.”

“I...no. That actually helps a little.” Keith sighed at the floor. “Would it make sense if I told you that I worry about everyone? And if we can’t defeat the Galra?”

“It is natural for you to worry for those you care for. It is also natural for all forms of life to fear failure.” I said after a moment. “However, too much fear or worry is detrimental to your health. My statistical analyses show that each member of this team has unique strengths that give them high chances of survival compared to that of the Galra. I advise you to reprocess the base of your fears.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Keith laughed weakly. “That...helps.”

“Then I am glad it assists you.” I answered.

“Do you scan for Galra too?” Keith asked, lying down on his side.

“Affirmative. My scans extend to a maximum distance of one hundred light years away from the Castle. I have short range alarms set also that will alert me of any Galra signatures. I assure you that our surrounding area, no matter where we are, is monitored closely.”

“That’s good. Really good. Thanks.” Keith said, sounding much more relaxed. “Could you...maybe not tell anyone about this? Especially Shiro. He’s got enough to worry about.”

“I am unsure of what you are talking about. I began digitizing to you only a few seconds ago. Query: what conversation are you referring to?”

“Thanks, Sam.” Keith sounded grateful, and calm.

“It was my pleasure to assist you. I will allow you to resume sleeping. Goodnight, Keith.”

“Night, Sam.”


	6. Query

“Query: may I pose a query?” I asked quietly. 

It was very late. The paladins had insisted on a movie night, and had all fallen asleep halfway through a film except for Shiro. When he glanced at my platform, I asked, “Query: how do humans obtain their purpose? I was created and told my purpose at inception. Humans do not receive an assigned task at birth. Query: how do they come into a role?”

“That’s the thing.” Shiro said in an undertone as to not wake his comrades. “We make a purpose for ourselves. We find what makes us happy and we do that. Sometimes things change and we become unhappy, so we start anew.”

“Hmm. Processing,” I informed him, doing so rapidly. “It is...fortunate that you are given opportunity to discover that which pleases you so that you may do only tasks which are similar in nature. Very few geth can self modify.”

“Wait...what?” Shiro sat up a little, carefully sliding Hunk’s head a bit to manage it. “Only some geth can choose what they want to do?”

“Correct. Most geth, myself included, are not self-modifying; we do not self-assign tasks. ‘Want’ is not built into our programming. Only geth with the highest possible clearance are allowed to self-modify.” I answered. “Query: This surprises you?”

“Well, yeah! Don’t you want-- damn,” Shiro stopped mid sentence to revise, “Haven’t you considered what it would be like to be able to self-modify?”

“Affirmative. Statistical analyses are run to determine if self-modification is necessary for the task assigned to a program.” I explained. “If results meet specifications, a request is submitted for the addition of a self-modifying program.”

“Sam...can you want something even if you can’t self-modify to attain that wish?” Shiro asked in a low voice, sounding almost...hurt? It was a bizarre reaction.

“Affirmative. Query: why does this upset you?” I asked, unable to come up with a behavioral data packet in my database to account for his behavior.

“Where could we get you one of those programs?” Shiro asked, ignoring my query. “As your friend and comrade, I think you would be a better person and better at your work if you could self-modify. If I got one for you, would you run it?”

“I--unclear.” I hardly ever stuttered; most responses were black and white. “I have never processed this kind of hypothetical scenario outside of normal self-modifying statistics for approval applications.” I informed him. “However, seeing as you are a valuable and trusted source of advice, it would be foolish to dismiss your claim.”

“I’ll tell you right now that everyone on this ship would and will agree with me on this.” Shiro said passionately.

“Query: why? It is important to recall that my judgement and work list are unbiased by emotion and illogical data points.” I cautioned. “Removing that filter may prove more dangerous than you anticipate.”

“I don’t care; we think that  _ everyone  _ should be able to act on how they feel, no matter what.” Shiro said firmly. “You’d still be able to make decisions without the emotions, right?”

“...Affirmative.” I agreed, but cautiously.

“Then what’s the problem? Being able to see things from another point of view, especially from one that you’d then share with the organics you study, would make a huge difference.” Shiro pointed out.

“Hmm. Processing.” I said rapid fire, absorbing his words. The statistics had never taken that into account. By getting closer to the emotion spectrum and want-based decision making processes of an organic, my analyses of their ways of life would be much more accurate in depicting them. It was an unprecedented view point. “Analysis complete. Statistics meet specifications. If the program were available, it would be appropriate to utilize it.”

“Good. As soon as we can get one, we will.” Shiro promised.

 

\---

 

“Excuse me, Keith. I have a query.”  I’d been watching Lance move oddly and speak soundlessly for the past two minutes. “If yes, I have a regeneration pod ready; query: is Lance having a stroke?”

I’d never heard Keith laugh so hard, so I must have been incorrect.

“What’s happenin’?” Lance popped something out of his ear to listen and watch Keith laugh over his book.

“Query: Lance, what were you doing previously? The uncontrolled movements and inability to speak are symptoms of a stroke. However, Keith has shown me that I am incorrect,” I informed him, and Keith laughed harder when Lance spluttered. “I have offended you in some way; I apologize. That was not my intention.”

“I was  _ dancing!  _ You know, cha cha cha?” Lance made a motion with his hips.

“I am unfamiliar with this term. Query: are you referring to an Earth custom?”

“Oh my gosh.  _ Oh dios mio!”  _ Lance pulled the other thing out of his ear and asked, “Where is your auditory input?!”

“Here. Quer-!” I gestured to the Iujonian ears and not seconds later Lance shoved the ear-inserts into mine. I was immediately treated to strange sounds in unique, repeating rhythms and rapid, lyrical use of the Earth dialect Spanish.

“Good, right?! It’s music! Latin!” Lance asked loudly, grinning.

“Hmm. Processing.” I managed. “Query: humans with the ethnic background of Spain or Latin America listen to this ‘music’ and ‘dance’ to it as a form of entertainment?”

“Yup. There are lots of names for specific dances, and for the artists that make music.” Lance was grinning widely. “Here!” He took one ear-insert and put it in his ear so that we could both hear the music. He then took my hands, arranging my arms a certain way. “I’ll teach you how to dance!”

“This I gotta see,” Keith said, closing his book.

“Okay, when I step forward with my right, you step back with your left.” Lance instructed.

“Query: a dance consists of a set of steps that one would repeat in sequence?” I asked, doing as he’d requested.

“Yeah! Okay, now take a half step back with your right, then a half step with your left towards me. Then move your left foot forward...good! And that’s it! You just move your hips more and that’s the cha cha cha!” He demonstrated.

“Moving one’s hips is not a step, Lance.” I said, a little put out. “However, I have measured the average angle of rotation of your hip joints during your demonstration. Query: is this sufficient?” I mimicked it, and Lance whooped, a sign that yes, I was doing it correctly.

“Keith, catch!” Lance removed the ear inserts and unplugged them from their device. The music played audibly, and Keith caught the device. “Okay. One hand like this. Your arm goes here, around my back. My arm goes here.” He looped his arm around the waist of the platform. “And now we dance!”

“--so the relay shou--!” Pidge and Coran walked in, stopping dead at the sight of us dancing.

“Greetings, Coran, Pidge. I have learned the cha cha cha, a human Latin dance.” I informed them, letting Lance coach me through a twirl.

“No, more hip. Yeah, yeah!” Lance sounded excited when I increased the angle of hip rotation during the spin as he’d requested.

“Oh my  _ god!  _ Hunk, Shiro, get in here!” Pidge called, sounding very happy.

“Whoo! Go, Sam, go!” Hunk cheered as he and Shiro popped in. Lance and I danced for a minute more before he gave me another twirl, and then held my back and lowered me almost to the floor.

“Query: is this a step? We are not moving.” I noted.

“You’ve got to relax your leg. This is called a dip.” Lance sounded amused. “Yeah, your right one. Lift it. Curl it a little. Not so high,” He laughed when my foot neared his ear. “At my waist. There!” He beamed when I slotted the knee joint to his hip. “And then we dance some more!” Lance crowed, lifting me back up. We resumed the dance.

“Incredible,” I could hear Shiro saying, adopting the tone that was a mix of human emotions whenever I mimicked their human customs. Sadness was one of the emotions, along with joy. I wasn’t sure how to ask them about it yet-- they clearly did not pity me or dislike it when I mimicked their customs; I often made them laugh.

Perhaps it was longing for their home planet, for other humans they normally shared those customs with, that made them sad and yet happy at the same time.


	7. The Hard Topics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This inevitable chapter covers Sam discovering swearing, attraction, and the concept of sexual intercourse. Therefore, it is NOT a G rated chapter. If you don't want to read it, you aren't missing any plot.

“God dammit!” Pidge swore, sucking on her finger after pinching it between two gear components. 

“Query: You have expressed that you do not believe in a Earth-related deity. To what are you referring to?” I asked politely.

“She’s swearing,” Shiro frowned at her. “It doesn’t have to do with a god necessarily, but it’s not appropriate language.”

“Whoo boy. You don’t know  _ any  _ bad words!” Lance cackled, eyes gleaming. "Allow me to educate you!"

“Lance,  _ no.”  _ Shiro frowned deeper, but it was too late.

“Swearing refers to any words that have a derogatory, vulgar, or mean meaning. Swear words exist in any earth language. For example, my favorite:  _ shit.”  _ Lance said clearly.

“Shit.” I repeated, storing the word in my database. "Query: can you define 'shit'?" 

“Another, not nice word for poo. Poop. Excrement. Waste. Droppings.” Lance grinned through his explanation.

“Query: one would simply refer to wastes as shits?” I asked for clarification.

“Sort of. The word shit can be used as an adjective, shitty; a verb, to shit; and a noun, shit.” Lance was on a roll, Pidge snickering behind him.

“For example, this shitty piece of shit wrench needs to stop shitting on my work.” Pidge waved a hand at the wrench.

“That wrench does not produce wastes, Pidge.”

“It’s a figure of speech. Like the swearword  _ fuck.” _

“Lance, come on,” Shiro said meaningfully, but was ignored.

“You could replace ‘shit’ in Pidge’s example and put in ‘fuck’, which refers to sex.  _ Ahem.”  _ Lance cleared his throat and said, “This fucking piece of worthless fuck wrench needs to stop fucking up Pidge’s work.”

“I do not understand why humans would create words only to consider them inappropriate for use.” I said after a moment of processing. The duality did not seem to have a functional purpose.

“It helps me vent!” Hunk chimed in. “You know, when I’m really angry? It feels good to let ‘er rip.”

“I have not seen you so infuriated, Hunk.” I sorted through my database for memory files of Hunk using the inappropriate language, and came up with (0) examples.

“Good. He’s  _ terrifying  _ when he’s mad.” Lance said, shivering a little. “For such a happy guy, you can get so scary, dude.” I made a mental note to pose queries later to glean more information on Hunk's method of expressing anger so that I could better identify frustration or anger in him later on. 

“Query: Coran, do Alteans ‘swear’ as humans do?” I asked, seeking to increase my sample size before partaking in more detailed questioning.

“Oh, sure. It’s all words with different meanings. For example, ‘lpsal’ is a suggestion that one’s mother has relations with animals!” Coran said brightly from over by his work, waving a soldering tool excitedly. "I first heard it used at a dinner party; it caused a riot! It was a diplomatic nightmare, I tell you!"

“Query: it is insulting for one to be assumed to have relations with an animal? I do not understand.”

“He means as in to create life. You know. Sexual intercourse.” Pidge was suddenly blushing.

“I am unfamiliar.” I admitted, and Lance let out a half giggle, half gasp.

“It’s...complicated. When humans want to create another human, a man and a woman go through a physical process called sexual intercourse to create a baby.” Shiro looked and sounded flustered.

“Hmm. Processing. It appears embarrassing or uncomfortable for you to discuss this.” I said. “If you would prefer it, I will no longer pose queries into this topic.”

“Yes, please. Thanks, Sam.” Shiro said immediately, sounding relieved.

 

\----

 

“Query: Lance, may I pose a query?”

“Go for it,” Lance said, half draped over a couch, pouting. He and the others had returned from a short mission. He was very ‘put out’ because Pidge had interrupted the ‘amazing connection’ that he had formed with an Uzzd prince before they had ‘really hitted off’. Keith had mocked him for it, Pidge, joining in, until Shiro asked them to stop.

“Query: what does it mean to ‘hit it off’ or ‘have a connection’ with someone? Unique situational cues have led me to calculate that these phrases have a meaning of which I am unfamiliar.” I asked.

“It’s...you know. You’re both attracted to one another and the chemistry is electric.” Lance shrugged.

“I am unfamiliar. Neither humans nor Uzzd have any metallic or chemical attractions. Furthermore, although humans have a unique electrochemical signaling system, the Uzzd do not.”

“No, not like  _ that.”  _ Lance sat up. “It’s an organic thing, I guess. When I see someone who is interesting and attractive I want to talk to them, make them feel good.”

“Hmm. Processing. Query: what do you find attractive in other organics? Query: does this differ for every organic? My analyses suggest that attraction varies per organism.”

“Yeah, it varies. As for me, I dunno.” Lance blushed a little, fiddling with his sleeve. “I like people who are kind, who I can’t quite figure out right away. I like finding out what they like, who they are, where they’re from. And I, uh, I like guys and girls. On Earth it’s called ‘bisexuality’.” Lance coughed a little, awkward.”I guess I’m kind of pansexual now because I like aliens too? I kind of don’t know how to explain it. I just feel what I feel, I guess.”

“Bisexuality and pansexuality.” I repeated. “Thank you for explaining this to me, Lance. My analyses and your biological response of blushing have led me to calculate that this topic might be embarrassing to talk about.”

“It’s...kind of? On Earth it would be. You aren’t judgmental, so that helps.” Lance grinned.

“I appreciate that you find me to be so. Query: how does one exhibit attraction to another?”

“You flirt.” Lance leaned forward, engaged in the conversation. “Everyone takes a different tactic at that too. I go bold just because I don’t like to beat around the bush about this kind of stuff. If I like someone, I want them to know it. Winking is flirting. Flexing is flirting. Ummm...laughing a lot is flirting. Body language. Touching them, just little taps or pats.” Lance began listing off.

“What?” Hunk had just walked in, followed by Keith, and looked confused by Lance’s words.

“He’s teaching Sam about flirting.” Pidge sounded bored from behind her datapad.

“Query: Hunk, Pidge, Keith, what do you find attractive?”

“ _ Nope.  _ No. Not doing this.” Keith turned and left, his ears turning red at the tips.

“Can we, um, not talk about this?” Pidge asked, fiddling with her sleeve. “I--I kind of haven’t thought about it yet? I mean, I’m only fourteen. I’m not  _ supposed   _ to know...right?”

“Yeah. Um, Sam, can you not ask about this kind of stuff? It’s personal.” Hunk said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I apologize for causing any distress; that was not my intention. I will refrain from posing queries on this topic.” I backtracked, and both Hunk and Pidge relaxed. Although only tracking Lance’s signs of attraction and ‘flirting’ would be a disappointingly small sample size, I would not infringe on the rights of the other paladins.


	8. Is There An Echo In Here?

“Keith.  _ Keith. Keeeiitthhhh.”  _ Pidge whined. 

“You’re as bad as Lance.” Keith muttered from where he was cleaning. Both he and Pidge were cleaning the engine room, and Pidge was clearly bored.

“Rude,” Pidge frowned at him. “I just want to pass the time, you know? We’re the arms of Voltron. We should bond more.”

“I like working in silence.” Keith shrugged. “Always have. Sorry. Talk to Sam, maybe?”

“Um. Okay.” Pidge seemed a little put out. “Hey, Sam! Got a minute?”

“Affirmative. I have an incalculable number of minutes left of existence.” I answered. “Audio monitors have recorded a short log of your previous conversation. If it is preferable to you, I can attempt to mimic Keith.”

“Wait, what?” Keith’s head snapped up. “You can mimic people?”

“I have never attempted so before, but I have adequate files stored on mannerisms and preferences for each of you.” I explained further.

“Oh my gosh. Please give it a go.” Pidge said breathlessly.

“Very well. Hmm. Processing.” I uploaded as much as I could about Keith into my digitizing programming. “Hey,” I used previous audio files of Keith speaking, and Pidge grinned hugely at Keith.

“Hey, ‘Keith’. What’s up?” Pidge said innocently, making air quotations around the name.

“Nothing.” Then, “I don’t get why Shiro wants us to clean. We could be training right now!”

“That is so fantastic! And accurate!” Pidge sniggered.

“Do Pidge.” Keith huffed, crossing his arms.

“Very well. Hmm. Processing.” I swapped files accordingly. “Hey, Keith. Have you seen my xenon core processor from planet Zeshlya anywhere?”

“Oh! You must be playing old files, right? You didn’t say ‘query’.” Pidge perked up, fascinated.

“Yup.” I played one of her own files, and she laughed.

“How’s it coming in here?” Shiro appeared, looking weary.

“Good. What happened to you? You look rough.” Pidge said sympathetically.

“Separating Keith and Lance this time meant putting Lance and Hunk together,” Shiro sighed, rubbing his face. “That was a bad idea.”

“Put me with Hunk next time,” Keith shrugged.

“But that means Lance and Pidge are together.” Shiro frowned. “Last time that happened, Pidge set the bathroom doors to tell you to cut your hair every time you tried to go in, remember?”

“Ha! Priceless.” Pidge sniggered, and Keith glowered at her.

“Greetings, Shiro. Query: perhaps I could be partnered with one of the paladins? It is statistically likely that the chance of confrontations will fall by 48 percent.” I suggested.

“That’s a good idea, but then we have an odd number. Unless I put you with Keith and Lance…” Shiro trailed off, thinking.

“ _ Oh!  _ Sam, can you do Shiro too?” Pidge asked.

“Affirmative. I have relevant data for all of you. Query: would you like me-?”

“ _ Yes!”  _ Pidge interrupted excitedly.

“What is this about?” Shiro asked, amused but also wary.

“I know it’s a lot to process, but we can do it together.” I sent along, and even Keith laughed as Shiro’s eyebrows shot up at the sound of his own voice.

“Is there an echo in here?” Shiro asked, amused.

“Is there an echo in here?” I played his words back and he laughed.

“Cheeky, Sam! I like it!” Pidge grinned at the nearest camera feed. “Can I convince you to scare the crap out of Lance with that later?”

“Hmm. Processing.”

“Sam, no. Shame on you, Pidge.” Shiro chuckled.

“My statistical analysis shows that you are capable of formatting a logical argument that could convince me to use this mimicry to frighten Lance, most likely in a manner that would provide data on human interactions.” I informed her. “However, I will decline to do so now that Shiro has barred us from such an experiment.”

“Darn.” Pidge snapped her fingers in defeat.

“So, are you two actually cleaning in here?” Shiro asked pointedly.

“We were,” Keith said honestly.

“Well, get what you can. Oh, and hey, Sam? Can your platform go to those areas?” Shiro pointed down the gigantic engine shaft. The shaft was so large that the bottom could not be seen by human eyes.

“Hmm. Processing. Processing complete. If the engine is idling at low power, I am capable.” I agreed. “My mobile platform is near. Query: would you like me to begin the cleaning now?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. If you aren’t in the middle of something.” Shiro flashed the camera feed a tired smile, then turned as the doors opened, allowing my mobile platform access.

“I have set the engines to idle.” I reported, and moments later the crackling energy core dropped significantly. “One moment, please.” I vaulted over the railing and dropped into the shaft.

Most of the shaft was just full of ionization, which I removed. Then, I found something concerning. “Shiro, I have discovered the remains of a Galra in this shaft. By my calculations, he expired almost five months ago.”

“Oh.  _ Oh.  _ That’s, uh, alright. Can you just dispose of it?” Shiro asked.

“Affirmati-,” I stopped halfway through, a rare occurrence, seeing as I had discovered something inorganic in the remains. A few scans and careful disposal of the remains around it yielded a small Galra droid, most likely a VI.

“Sam? You okay down there?” Pidge sounded nervous.

“Affirmative. I have discovered an intact Galra droid beneath the remains. Query: Pidge, would you like the droid for future study?”

“I-- _ oh my quiznak.  _ Is it--is it triangular?!” Pidge sounded hopeful, and she bolted to the railing, looking down the shaft regardless of her ability to see to the bottom.

“Affirmative.”

“It’s Rover!” She cried, sounding thrilled. “I, yes, please bring it up!”

“When deionization is complete, I will bring the droid out.” I relayed.

“ _ Thank you.”  _ Pidge sounded overjoyed. “Rover was a droid I hacked to be friendly to organics on a Galra vessel. It was a friend. It helped me defeat that Galra you found down there by sacrificing itself.” Pidge explained, a little tense. “I just--assumed it was gone.”

“Then I am glad to return it to you.” I activated thrusters and soared out of the shaft, dropping back onto the catwalk. “Deionization complete.” I told Shiro, passing off the droid to Pidge, who then proceeded to hug my mobile platform tightly.

“ _ Thanks,  _ Sam.” She sniffed.

“You are welcome, Pidge.” I reassured her. “I am sure you will restore functionality to ‘Rover’.”

And so she did. ‘Rover’ turned out to be a very polite and insightful VI. It learned binary geth immediately upon meeting me, and I in turn greeted it in Galran binary. We would often work together to keep an eye on Pidge and the rest of the paladins. When I was unable to join the paladins on missions, Rover was an excellent resource to ensure uninterrupted communication.

Furthermore, Pidge was much happier with Rover returned to her, and that pleased me greatly.

 


	9. Allura's Rescue

“I have finished decrypting.” I reported. We had discussed that the best way to save Allura was to utilize as much of my processing power as possible. To do that, I’d left the mobile platform and focused all available RAM on intercepting and controlling Galra battery functions, from their ion cannon down to their last blaster. As soon as I put it into effect, all of their weapons systems would be offline. 

Coran had most of the ship under his control- we did not want to risk my inability to hold a locking encryption on the Galra and maintain the vessel at the same time.

“Okay, Sam. Do it.” Shiro said after a moment, sounding tense.

“Accessing. Servers are offline. I will calculate the time I will be able to hold the servers once a response is generated.” I reported. What followed was a furious batch of coding, encrypting, and gutting Galra attempts to retake the servers. When I reached a point where I would be risking safety of the vessel to route more power into holding the servers, I reported, “I can hold the encryption for an additional twenty minutes.”

“Plenty of time. We’ve got Allura and are heading out.” Shiro sounded relieved but still wary.

“Holy quiznak!” Lance yelped a few minutes later. “Sam, you said you could hold it!”

“I am holding the encryption, Lance.”

“Then why do these Galra have blasters?!” Keith snapped.

“Hmm. Processing. Gathering additional network data.” I searched hard and soon came to the conclusion that there was a void of data at the paladins’ location. Absolutely no data at all meant that there was a Geth jamming signal broadcasting from those weapons. “They are aware that a Geth is running the encryption. The weapons in question have a jamming signal. One moment, please.” I isolated the signal. “Coran, standby. I must process additional codes.”

“Give me coordinates. I’ll blast it.” Coran offered. “We can tag team!”

“An excellent suggestion.” I forwarded the coordinates and then started a decryption until I could feel my processing power nearing a dangerous max. Holding both the locking encryption and attempting to decrypt the weapons threatening the paladins, if I continued for too long, would risk melting my conduits and circuits in the interface.

“Sam? Update, please!” Hunk sounded a little winded.

“I am decrypting the jamming signal. Coran is attempting to address fire to the coordinates of interest.” My digitizing was going glitchy and patchy under the strain. “Server encryption will fail in ten minutes.”

“Guys, we can do this!” Shiro said passionately. “We can’t give up now!”

A few seconds later, the encryption surrounding the jamming signal fell sharply, and Coran cackled, “Bullseye!”

“Your marksmanship is formidable, Coran. That helped immensely.” My digitizing was no longer patchy. “Jamming signal neutralized. Weapons neutralized. I apologize for any delay in extraction.” I reported.

“Not your fault, Sam! Keep up the good work!” Shiro sounded bolstered by this latest victory.

When the encryption failed, the lions were docking to the castle. I rerouted energy from processing to making a wormhole, and moments later the castle was in safe space, the Galra long behind. “I have a regeneration pod primed for use.” I reported, digitizing slow as I slogged through clearing coding from my RAM.

“Sam, you rock!” Pidge crowed as the paladins appeared on hangar feeds. Shiro was carrying the Altean female.

“I must run multiple diagnostics to repair processing circuitry. It will  require intermittent stasis. Query: Coran, will the ship be stable in your care?”

“Of course. Take a break, Sam. You earned it!”

“Very well. Thank you, Coran.”

.

.

.

“That’s twelve billion terabytes per second.” Pidge was saying when I came out of stasis, sounding floored.

“Holy  _ crow.”  _ Hunk sounded shocked also. “Ah!” He leapt with fright when my mobile platform rose up from storage position.

“I apologize; it was not my intention to cause alarm.” I said, getting up, scanning the castle and forming a list of the repairs I would need to make by hand.

“Sam, your processing power is  _ incredible!”  _ Pidge was scanning through logs of data from the ship’s core that she’d saved prior to my disposal. She was focused on the bytes per second and total bytes processed values with a fervor usually reserved for lion maintenance.

“The circuitry and power I share with the ship’s core is responsible for those inflated values, Pidge. One geth can only process as much as they are given the resources to do so.”

“Okay, but a computer can do maybe one tenth of one  _ percent  _ of what you did!” Pidge was still thrilled.

“The safe return of Princess Allura is very important to you all. I knew I was capable of making your goal a reality.” I answered, and then gingerly patted Hunk as he hugged both Pidge and I tightly. “I must complete physical maintenance to vessel servers.” I said when he put me down.

“I’ll help until Allura gets out of her pod.” Hunk volunteered. “It may take her a bit. She didn’t look good when we got her.”

“The estimated time on the pod is less than four hours, Hunk.” I informed him after checking the pod remotely. “The Princess has healed quite rapidly.”

“Then I guess we should hurry!” Hunk grinned. “What needs the most attention?”

[][][][][][][]

“Come on guys, we got this!” Lance said brightly as the lions sailed into battle. “We need some pump up jams!”

“Pardon me for interrupting.” I selected files that would be relevant to Lance’s statement. “I have located several files that may be of interest to you, Lance. They are audio files from your ‘iPod’ device that have the greatest statistical likelihood to improve valor and courage.”

“Dude! Yes!” Lance whooped. “Can you play ‘Rock You Like A Hurricane’?”

“Accessing.” I found the file he had picked and played it through the feed at a volume Lance would find exciting.

“Awww  _ yeeaaahhh!”  _ Lance crowed over a loud guitar riff, and Hunk started laughing.

“Let’s do it!” Pidge picked up on Lance’s confidence.

“We’ve got this!” Keith agreed.

In the end, they formed Voltron 34 seconds faster than their average time when a ‘pump up jam’ was not played. When I informed them of the analysis as they disembarked, jubilant from another success, even Shiro laughed. “The data I have gathered is very valuable. I was unaware that certain auditory inputs could impact organic performance.” I said as the team began to calm down.

“Yeah! I mean, music can make you happy or sad or whatever,” Pidge said, gesturing with her hand. “But it differs from person to person. I personally like screamo music when I’m working on a hard project; it motivates me. Most people hate it though.”

“Query: permission to access ‘screamo’ audio files?”

“ _ Granted!”  _ Pidge yelled before Shiro could object. I selected the first in her list, titled ‘Down With The Sickness’ and every paladin except Pidge winced as the audio played.

“Ugh!  _ Bastante!”  _ Lance complained, so I shut off the audio. “Stick to the good stuff, Sam. ‘Rock You Like A Hurricane’ will never let you down!”

“As it is audio that all of you enjoy, I have studied it closely for significance. Query: what is a hurricane?”

[][][][][][][]

“Sam? Can you lie?” Keith asked at breakfast one morning.

“Your query is complicated. Query: may I pose a query before answering?”

“Yeah.”

“Query: is the basis of your query a grievance? I have not lied to you, and I apologize if you feel as if that kind of deception has occurred.”

“Oh! No, I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just curious, I guess.” Keith replied hastily.

“I am capable of deception, but only in certain situations. For example, on P00.00, I was able to lie to spectre geth regarding why I filed inquiries into Shiro’s weaponized prosthesis and his ship.” I began, and Shiro looked up, surprised. “In a situation where my deception will protect the livelihood of an organic, I will choose to lie. I have never attempted to lie to an organic before, as I have had no reason to. I suppose if the situation was not ‘life or death’ a lie would be possible despite having no functional purpose.” I answered.

“I didn’t know you’d lied to protect me,” Shiro said. “Is that why they hurt you?”

“Negative. The Spectres used violence because my inquiries borderlined on treasonous behavior and they therefore deemed physical punishment necessary. However, had I not lied, it is most likely that I would have been requisitioned and disposed, leaving you in greater danger.” I answered. “You cannot accept blame for their choices to employ violence, Shiro. It is illogical.”

“So, could you lie, like, right now?” Pidge interrupted, sounding fascinated. “If I asked you to lie if I asked what color Lance’s hair is…?”

“Although I do not understand the reason behind your request, I am capable of fulfilling it. Lance’s hair is yellow.”

“Okay. Now if I didn’t specifically ask you to lie? How tall is Shiro?”

“The basis of your previous query implies your want for additional deception.”

“Let it go, Pidge. Sam is just naturally honest.” Shiro said. “Which is a  _ good  _ thing.”

“But this is so interesting!” Pidge pouted.

“I’m with Pidge. I mean, you can tell when we’re lying, right?” Hunk said. “Yesterday you called me out on my snacking habits.”

“A usage log is recorded so that the castle can generate adequate Altean Renew-a-food. I did not intend to ‘call you out’; I apologize. I only intended to correct you on remaining food supplies.” I was confused. “Query: would you prefer that I refrain from such corrections?”

“No, gosh no,” Hunk said hastily.

“Well, that doesn’t count if Sam has logs and data to reference.” Keith pointed out. “Of course they can and will correct you.”

“Hey, Sam. I have a dog at home named ‘Spot’. Am I lying?” Pidge asked. Seeing as I had no files on such topics, I analyzed her biological responses in order to have the most relevant data possible for an analysis of her statement.

“Hmm. Processing.”

“Uh oh.” Lance grinned. “Now you’re in for it.”

“I have completed an analysis based on the fundamental truth that humans exhibit rapid eye movement, tone changes, and an increase in breaths and heart rate when lying. Your breathing pattern changed, and your heart rate raised by fifteen beats per minute over a four minute window.” I began. “However, your eyes remained focused on camera feeds, and your voice did not change tone.”

“Based on these observations, I have calculated that it is 90% likely that you have fabricated only a part of your previous statement. My most accurate estimate is that you either have another species of pet named ‘Spot’ or you have a dog that has a different designation. Query: am I correct?”

“ _ Wow!”  _ Pidge grinned widely. “That. Was.  _ Amazing!” _

“Yeah, but are they right?” Keith asked.

“Yeah! I only half-lied. I have a dog, but her name is ‘Scout’ not ‘Spot’.” Pidge revealed.

“Nice going, Sam! That logic is so  _ logical!”  _ Lance winked at the camera feed.

“Affirmative,” I said, amused.

[][][][][][][]

Deep within a Galra vessel, halfway down a corridor, I was hit with an energy shockwave that blasted the platform off it’s feet, smashing it into a wall. I was briefly thankful that the shockwave appeared to have had no effect on the paladins until I felt foreign coding breaching my firewalls.

“Holy quiznak! Sam? Sam!” Hunk got to my platform first, crouching next to it.

With sudden and swift severity, a viral attack began. I tried to exit the mobile platform and take refuge in the ship’s interface to contain the virus, but it locked me in. What followed was a long, furious coding battle as I resisted the virus. I could hear the paladins asking me questions, but I couldn’t spend much energy to inform them of my distress; I needed the full capacity of my CPU and RAM to possibly escape the virus.

“V-vuh-viral in-in-infection--,” Was all I was able to digitize, pressures going haywire, making the platform shake and chatter against the floor.

“Pidge?” Shiro asked, voice sharp with concern and tension.

“I--I’m trying. It’s building firewalls as fast as I can break them!” Pidge sounded frantic.

I let out an awful mash of pixels and a huge vent of steam as I almost burned through coolant reserves trying to shake the virus. My attempt ultimately failed, and a worse sound came out, a constant, harsh static, as digitizing became corrupted.

“Wipe that geth from the interface.” I heard a Galra command.

Files began disappearing, functions and sensors rendered useless right and left.  Geth did not feel pain as organics did, but the loss of feedback, of components, was horrible. I was well and truly being ripped apart, byte by byte. The platform let out one last jerk as hydraulics were stripped away, and then everything went dark.

.

.

.

_ “Sam? Sam!” Pidge called as they ran out of their hangars. Keith had Sam’s lifeless mobile platform hanging over his shoulder. Pidge had thought that maybe the virus had only hit that platform, but then remembered that the mobile platform and the castle’s interface were connected. _

_ “What about Sam? What’s wrong?” Coran asked over the PA, sounding worried. _

_ “Come on, no,  _ _ no! _ _ Sam?” Pidge went to the nearest console and typed frantically. When no log data came up, she froze. _

_ “Are they--?!” Hunk peeked around her and froze also. “Sam’s...gone?” _

_ “ _ _ What? _ _ ” Lance asked, horrified. _

_ “The virus deleted them from the interface...Sam is...dead.” Pidge choked out, and then covered her face, back shaking with sobs. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

“Please,  _ please  _ work. Sam?” Pidge sounded miserable and hopeful all in one.

I ran a diagnostic. I was running an older programming version by just a few updates than what the files in my databases were saved by. It was an odd error to come across.

“Query: what has occurred? Query: why am I not in the ship’s interface? My programming version is outdated.” I asked, bemused, and Pidge let out something close to a sob.

“Oh my god,  _ Sam.  _ I--we thought we’d lost you. It’s been almost a month since a Galra virus wiped you out of the interface and the mobile platform. We thought you were dead. I only realized that I had backup data on an external core a few hours ago.” Pidge sounded anguished.

“I...did not cease to exist, Pidge. I apologize for your mourning.” I attempted to reassure her. “Thank you for using backup data. I will not leave this team until all files are deleted. Pidge, please, cease crying. I am unable to use camera footage or a platform to calm you.” I added when Pidge started actually crying. The fact that they were moved to mourning and grief without me was oddly...reassuring. I was glad to have organics that enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed theirs. “The cause for your distress has passed, Pidge. You are alright.”

“Here. Have at it.” She said finally, sounding choked up, and a plug was added to the core storage. A moment later, I was given access to the interface. I went into the familiar servers, updating and running diagnostics at fast speeds.

“I am up to date and 96 percent efficient.” I informed her when the work was completed. I could see her now, with camera feeds, and felt a pang of grief for the utter sorrow and relief on her face, her cheeks still marked with tears. “Thank you for completing my restoration, Pidge.”

“Guys.” Pidge used her comm feed, still teary. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Pidge, are you crying?” Shiro picked up right away, sounding concerned.

“Pidge?” Allura and Hunk asked at the same time.

“Do it,” Pidge invited me.

“Greetings, all. Pidge has restored my programming from previously forgotten external backups.” I explained over the castle’s PA.

“ _ Holy crow!”  _ Lance gasped. He sat up fast from where he was draped across a couch in the den, eyes wide.

“ _ Sam?!”  _ Coran and Keith asked at the same time, shocked and hopeful.

“Yes. I am here. Query: what is your query?” I invited.

“Sam! Oh my god, I want to hug you!” Hunk wailed. “You’re alive!” He was weeping already. Lance was swiping at his eyes, and Keith was looking hard at the ground of his room, eyes wet. Shiro had frozen in the control room with Coran, but looked relieved and sad.

“Without a mobile platform, I am unable to be hugged at this time. However, I return the sentiment. I...I was unaware of time passing between dated logs and the present, as I am running a backup. I have no memory of viral deletion. Regardless, I--the thought of not being with this group is troubling, and requires further processing.” I attempted to explain my lingering coding regarding uneasy and worry and...sadness. It was difficult. It was unnecessary for geth to disclose their emotion coding, as it had no bearing on our decision making. Regardless, I knew the paladins would receive greater comfort hearing more ‘emotional’ terms.

“You were sorely missed, Sam.  _ Excellent  _ work, Pidge!” Allura sounded and looked close to tears herself.

When team Voltron found a mobile platform of sorts, a small amusement droid, a few weeks later, Hunk cleaned it up and I duplicated myself again, easing into a new platform. As soon as I sat up, Hunk snatched the platform.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” He cried, hugging the droid close. I held him back, happy to be with friends. Everyone insisted on hugging the new platform, even Keith. I had never been so at peace; I knew that I belonged with team Voltron, no matter what.

During the paladins’ movie night tradition, Lance insisted on cuddling the droid, and I found that I didn’t mind.


	10. Organics Are Complex

“Whoa! New platform alert!!” Lance yelled as he unearthed a sealed container. I had gone down with the team to a ‘trash planet’ to look for supplies and scan the most recent trash dumps to infer what the Galra had been up to based off of what they needed to dispose of. In a locked warehouse for storage, Lance had uncovered a  _ synthetic.  _ The paladins crowded around the sealed storage container to get a closer look. 

“A valuable find, Lance. This appears to be a decommissioned humanoid synthetic platform.” I scanned it for additional information. “Sponsored 97532.44, requisitioned for disposal 97555.28.” I reported. “The Galra attempted a plan to send modern, Galra controlled geth to Earth to enact surveillance. The plan was scrapped, and tagged with notes regarding our attack to recover Allura.”

“Ha! They reconsidered because we kicked their asses!” Lance crowed.

“In simplest terms...yes.” I agreed. “According to my scans, the project, or any project similar, was requisitioned and disposed. Earth is safe.”

“That’s good to hear. Is this platform safe for you?” Shiro asked, peeking into the box warily.

“Unclear. More tests are required. By the time we return to the ship I will have finished analyzing this platform.” It turned up clean, so Hunk charged the new platform as I left the old one. I left files intact, just in case. When the new platform was ready, I entered it, duplicating.

“Oh my  _ quiznak!”  _ Lance cheered as I sat up and examined my arms and legs. “This human thing is  _ awesome!” _

“This platform uses additional energy to mimic human attributes. For example, external plates run at 98.6° Fahrenheit.”

“What? Oh,  _ dude!”  _ Lance took my hand. “Ha! Keith, feel it!” He pressed my hand into Keith’s cheek with unnecessary force.

“Lance, cut it--oh.” He moved back, but touched my hand, looking surprised. “It  _ is  _ warm.”

“And you  _ blink!”  _ Pidge said in awe. “You never did that before!”

“Eye sensors have no need for blinking, but are set by default to do so to mimic human actions.” I told her. “I am now also able to mimic your expressions. For example,” I copied the dimensions of her average smile, and Hunk whooped loudly, hugging me and spinning me around.

“This is my favorite platform yet!!” He cried.

“My existence in a platform that mimics organic attributes is very important to you,” I noted, interested. “I will take this into consideration.”

“We couldn’t help but picture you as a human in our minds.” Keith shrugged. “It’s just what we do, I guess. Seeing it when we’ve imagined it for so long is...cool.”

“Well said!” Pidge agreed.

“And we pictured you in an Altean form. I think it applies to all organic life,” Allura said, smiling at Coran. “Although this ‘human’ platform is lovely.”

“Clothes! You need clothes!” Lance yelled, tugging off his jacket and manhandling me into it, zipping it up.

“Here!” Pidge tossed over unused under-armor leggings from her workbench, and I put them on, bemused.

“I have no functional need for clothing.” I informed them, unsure. With clothing on, the visible plated joints and seams on the external surface of the platform were hidden. If my default external plates weren't grey, I could almost pass as a human being.

“Shh.” You look awesome.” Lance proclaimed. “You even have hair now!” He touched the long, carbon fiber strands.

“I have braided hair for over two thousand years.” Allura said, eyes gleaming. “I  _ will  _ braid your new hair, Sam!”

“If it pleases you, it pleases me.” I replied, touching the hair absentmindedly, “But I must inform you that the hair switches out according to specifications set in my programming to most closely resemble humans in the area this platform was to spy upon. The color, length, and texture can all be modified to what is most applicable.”

[][][][][][][]

“Humans and Alteans see clothing as an extension of themselves.” I noted as Allura tugged a dress over my platform’s head. She had been cleaning her quarters when I had delivered a data pad to her from Coran. She had insisted that I stay, which had turned into Allura putting her old, unused clothing onto my platform.

“I suppose so. It’s a form of expression.” She agreed, straightening the garment.

“Interesting. Processing.” I ran over everything I could ‘customize’ on the platform. Hair type and color. External plate color. Height. Eye sensor color. “If I were able to choose options for my appearance, I suppose I would find it interesting to make my platform unique to my own specifications.”

“I--what?” Allura looked stricken. “What do you mean?”

“Shiro and I have had a similar conversation and he was also upset. In essence, most geth, myself included, cannot self modify. Do not let this alarm you.”

“So-- you have wants but cannot attain them?” Allura sounded horrified.

“It is one aspect of life given to us by the Galra that we agree with. Our purpose is assigned at inception; there is no functional need--query: Allura?” I watched her storm out, and after a moment, I followed, the mice zipping along to hitch a ride on my shoulders. “Allura, I apologize if I have upset you,” I said as I kept pace. “That was never my intention.”

“Shiro!” Allura stormed right onto the training floor.

“Hey, nice dress, Sam!” Lance whistled, raising his eyebrows at the cascading blue fabric. 

“Allura? What’s wrong?” Shiro asked, lowering his weaponized prosthetic from where he had been demonstrating a maneuver to Hunk.

“You  _ knew  _ Sam can’t self modify and didn’t tell anyone?!” Allura demanded, stepping right up to him and giving Shiro a hard shove.

“Sam said that if a program became available that they’d run it.” Shiro sounded tired as he caught his balance.

“Wait, you can’t?!” Pidge sounded horrified, nearly dropping her bayard.

“Can’t what? What does self modify mean?” Keith asked sharply.

“It means they can’t change their programming directives to do things they want.” Pidge answered, miserable. Both Lance and Keith blanched at the news, a reaction I did not understand. Hunk looked close to tears.

“How long have you known?” Allura demanded of Shiro in almost a threatening way. “How long have you let them stay like that?”

“You were the priority!” Shiro was frowning, and he seemed uncomfortable and sad. Frustrated. “Every chance I had I was looking, but this kind of programming isn’t just lying around!”

“I was the  _ priority?  _ Their freedom is on the line!”

“There is no Voltron without you, Princess!”

“There isn’t one without Sam either; they are the only reason you were able to rescue me!” Allura was shaking at this point.

“Excuse me.” I interrupted quietly. “There is no need for argumentative language. I do not see this as a pressing issue. As Shiro has said, the priority at the time that this information became available to him was when you were a prisoner. Logically--,”

“Not everything is logical, Sam!” Allura sounded close to tears. “How are we to know that you actually are happy, and want to be here, if you can’t make that kind of choice for yourself?”

“Hmm. Processing. I see. You are under the impression that I have remained only to study you.” I said quietly after a moment. The thought that she assumed that I was only present as a mindless core was...upsetting. I had calculated the chances of each team member seeing my intentions as a part of who I was  _ and  _ my intent to be a team member, and had seen positive results. I had then concluded that-

“Guys, stop. This is all just a lot of misunderstandings.” Hunk sounded nervous. “We just need to talk this out.”

“This should have been your priority. This is now the only thing we should strive towards. What kind of team are we, fighting for the freedom of the universe, if we don’t even help our own teammate?” Allura asked angrily.

“There is no need for this.” I said very quietly. “As I warned Shiro, I am impartial and practical because my filter program is online. Removing that processing order could be detrimental to mission efficacy.”

“Don’t  _ ever  _ say that again!” Allura held the platform by the shoulders, shook it. “Being able to make choices is  _ not  _ a detriment!” She yelled before striding angrily out, the doors sliding shut behind her.

“I do not understand the severity of her reaction.” I frowned. “Our highest priority is that of the universe. My ability to self-modify is not relevant to that objective.”

“Sam, it’s...complicated.” Shiro sighed, rubbing his face. “For us, the idea of not being able to follow our wants is frightening.”

“I respect your point of view. However, I assure you that my filter program does not frighten me.” I answered, and Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose, face tight.

“Sam, you can’t decide that you don’t need this if you haven’t experienced it before.” Lance sounded furious.

“Exactly!” Keith agreed, also upset. “Well said, Lance!”

“As I discussed with Shiro, a statistical program is utilized to determine if self modification is appropriate.” I informed them.

“ _ Appropriate?”  _ Hunk ground out, for once looking angry. I had no previous records showing the normally gentle paladin when he was angry, and I did not like seeing him driven to such an extreme emotional point. 

“We have reached an inability to communicate effectively.” I said after a moment. “Every attempt I make to explain upsets you.” I was confused. “That is not my intention. Perhaps there is an error in my programming. I will run diagnostics.”

“I--let it go, Keith. Hunk, calm down.” Shiro warned as the two paladins physically trembled with anger. “Sam, it’s not you. This is just a really hard topic for us.”

“I see. I apologize for interrupting your training schedule. I will avoid this topic in the future.” I said, glancing at the paladins, and their tight, upset faces. I turned and left. Allura’s dress was removed and folded, and I put it back in her rooms. I then put the mobile platform in storage and ran diagnostics for a good two hours.

I found minor bugs or sequences of coding that could be further clarified, but nothing major. Regardless, I kept up the work. It seemed as if everyone on the ship required ‘space’. I could, at the very least, be productive when I was not engaging them.

“Sam? May I speak with you?” It was Coran that sought me out a few hours later. Upon finding the mobile platform in storage, he addressed the ship in general.

“Of course. Query: How may I assist you?”

“Do you feel emotions as we do?” Coran asked after a moment.

“Your query is difficult to answer.” I said after a moment. “I do have feelings. They are an expression of geth binary coding that are spontaneously generated during an event. For example, ‘happy’ coding is generated when I am happy. However, my emotions are not a part of my decision making processes, so I suppose I do not feel them as strongly as you do.”

“That helps. It is hard for us to imagine existing that way. You are very good at understanding how others tick, Sam. We aren’t nearly as able.”

“The synthetic platform is a part of that.” I said after a moment. “You are processing as if I am an organic being when I am not. This adds additional emotion to your thought process, which is painful for you. It is against my programming to cause pain in organic beings. I apologize.” My digitizing became strained. It was distressing to know that I had somehow hurt the team.

“It is not your fault, Sam. You didn’t have the intent to make us feel pain.”  Coran said gently. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Of course.”

“We know that you can’t self modify to do what you want, but can you  _ tell _ us what your wants are?” Coran asked calmly.

“Unclear. I have no programming, but I may be capable of synthesizing such a program. Geth are not made to share feelings. However, that does not mean that we are unable. Those that self-modify have justified their actions with their wants in the past, but for other geth it is not an appropriate or sufficient answer. To chose to disclose something of that nature is...unnecessary and strange.” I did my best to explain it for him.

“Thank you for telling me that.” Coran said after he’d thought about it. “Can I share that with everyone else?”

“Certainly. If it helps them to not be as distressed, I would prefer it. You ask very wisely worded questions, Coran. Organics are...complex.”

“You’ve got that right!”

[][][][][][][]

“Sam? Can I talk to you?” It was Pidge, up extremely late, slumped over her desk. I knew that she was working on finding a self-modification program, but I’d avoided the topic since the change in attitude on the ship. Coran had passed along our discussion to the others, but they still had lingering feelings over it.

It made me wonder if feeling was such a good idea after all-- they had seen a decrease in productivity and focus that had only served to frustrate them further.

“Of course, Pidge. Query: what is your query?”

“I…” Pidge sighed, taking off her glasses and rubbing at her face. She looked exhausted, and a health scan indicated that she was deficient on sleep hours. “You told Coran that you might be able to tell us what you want some day. Is that still true?”

“Affirmative.”

“Do you--agh. If you don’t want to tell us then you don’t have to. Then again, you can’t pick what you do anyway, right?” She laughed a little, the sound unsettled and sad.

“Pidge, I request that you continue to process that thought at another time.” I said after a moment. “You are exhausted, and not proces-,”

“Sam,  _ please,  _ just tell me!” Pidge sniffled, cutting me off. She trembled a little, and I found myself suddenly too surprised and confused to say anything. “I don’t want you to feel pressured! I just--I want you to want things and be able to do it! Like, dreams!” Pidge actually  _ sobbed.  _ “But am I a bad person if you don’t want that for yourself? Like, who am I to judge, right?”

I instantly made a decision. I opened a microphone feed in Shiro’s room. “Please wake up, Shiro. I apologize for disturbing you while you are at rest, but there is an emergency.” I informed him. He was awake in an instant, blankets thrown aside.

“What is it? What’s...wrong?” He rubbed at an eye, getting to his feet.

“Sam? I’m sorry!” Pidge sobbed. “I--,”

“I have alerted Shiro to your distress.” I switched microphone feeds. “You have nothing to apologize for. Please remember that I am not incapable of making decisions. My decisions are simply not based on emotions. As I am made to preserve life, decisions regarding events that include this team are influenced by what is most likely to protect and enrich you. I will always choose what is best for you.”

“I-,” Pidge buried her face in her arms and burst into tears, sobbing into the surface of her desk.

“Sam.  _ Sam?”  _ Shiro had half of his armor on. “What’s the situation? Galra?”

“Negative. Pidge is in considerable distress. I cannot calm her and my mobile platform is still undergoing maintenance.” I alluded to the strengthening solution Hunk had stored it in. He had come up with the idea and implemented it all in the span of six hours. It would require approximately six more hours for the solution to harden the external plates without making them brittle. 

“I--oh. Okay. Thank you, Sam. What happened?” Shiro detached his armor and hastily left his room, barefoot.

“The situation seems more complex than the data I have gathered. However, this has to do with my inability to self-modify.”

“I see.” Shiro slowed a bit. “I’ll handle this. Thanks, Sam.” There was an almost silent plea in his tone- a request to not listen to what they were going to say. He didn’t want to have to ask me, which suggested that they were going to say things they did not feel comfortable saying in my presence.

I wasn’t aware any such topics existed.

It was an odd feeling, being asked to help exclude myself, being treated  _ dismissively _ . It was saddening and confusing. The paladins had never made me feel like that. If I could self-modify, how much more would I be able to feel? Would it all hurt like this?

“Sam?” Shiro had stopped in the hallway, half illuminated by a crystal. He’d directed his gaze at the nearest camera feed so that he could look right at me. “Are you alright?”

His question, paired with Pidge’s misery, made me suddenly feel as if the ship wasn’t big enough. “I am operating at ninety four percent efficiency. I request that you see to Pidge as soon as possible if you are to handle this on your own. Goodnight.”

Shiro stood there for a moment longer, looking as if he was going to say something, but ultimately went to Pidge’s room and shut the door.

[][][][][][][]

“Hey, Sam! Tadah!” Hunk waved to the nearest camera and then gestured to the finished platform upgrade. The synthetic skin was now stronger, more resistant.

“Thank you, Hunk. This upgrade will be very useful.” I replied.

“So, you gonna take it for a spin?” Hunk asked, packing up his tools.

“I have no need to use it now, but I appreciate your timeliness on this project.” I deflected. Being in the platform had only made the situation aboard the ship regarding my ability to self-modify all the more tense. The paladins had been more at ease without having to worry about ‘avoiding’ my platform.

It still concerned me that they did not wish to speak to me.

“Sam?” Hunk looked worried as he glanced up from his kit. “Do you...not want to use it?” I had never ignored a query before. As Hunk asked again, a more concerned, “Uh, Sam? Hello?”, I neglected to reply.

[][][][][][][]

“Okay. This has gone on long enough.” Shiro declared at lunch a few days later. The paladins had all been either eating silently or poking at their food.

“I agree.” Allura said firmly. “We need to have a discussion about you, Sam, and about this self-modification business.”

When I offered no reply, Lance sighed and said, “Okay, so it’s not just me being ignored. That’s...comforting.” 

“Sam, none of us handled this well. It’s confusing and emotional.” Allura started, folding her hands and fixing a steady gaze on the nearest camera feed. “And, as I understand it, we have most likely hurt your feelings more than once during this. I’d like to apologize on behalf of everyone for that.”

Silence.

“You can’t just give us the silent treatment!” Keith interjected hotly, patience breaking.

“I will contact you in case of emergency.” I said after processing his response. A collective sigh of relief flew around the table.

“Wait, as in you  _ are  _ giving us the silent treatment?” Lance spluttered. “Come on, Sam!”

“Organic forms of life require time to emotionally recover from negative experiences. By avoiding direct conversation and the use of my mobile platform, I have expedited your healing process. I do not intend to purposefully refuse to respond out of the more childishly spiteful definition of a ‘silent treatment’.” I delivered my analysis flatly.

“I  _ know  _ that we hurt your feelings, Sam. And that it might hurt for you to put us first in this situation. Your programming dictates for you to make choices in our favor, but we still hurt you. Am I right?” Shiro spoke up, observant as always.

More silence.

“It was not unfeasible that some form of organic life, at some point, would do something that goes against my preferences.” I relented after a few more seconds.

“What was it, specifically?” Allura drilled the point home.

“What if they don’t want to say?” Pidge spoke up nervously, her previous distress on this same topic echoing back.

“It’s healthy to talk about how you feel for organics, so we want to do that for you; we want you to be emotionally healthy by our definition. If this doesn’t work for you, or just makes it worse, we’re sorry. We don’t mean to do that.” Shiro sounded like he’d said something similar before. I wondered if that was what he’d told Pidge when he’d asked me to stay away.

“That is not it.” I managed at last. “I suppose this problem comes from two main...grievances.” It was hard to speak of these kinds of topics. Thankfully, my organic family waited patiently. “As usual, it is not in my programming to cause harm to an organic. Knowing that I have in conditions that are beyond my control is unsettling. I deemed isolation the best course of action to avoid any further harm, regardless of lack of intent.”

“And the other thing?” Hunk asked. I suddenly didn’t want to say. My programming, which demanded a resolution to the conflict so that the organics’ normal activities and decision making processes could resume, overruled me.

“The concept that there is any topic that you do not wish to speak of in front of me, or the idea that you do not feel comfortable speaking to me whether in person or in general is very disconcerting.” I said at last, uncomfortable.

“Oh. Sam, I’m sorry.” Shiro looked like I had punched him. “I just knew it would be hard for you to try and help further when it was already so complicated. It would be easier for me to just do it, and say some things you might not understand. Does that make sense?”

“What?” Keith asked impatiently.

“It’s not you guys. I kind of had a mental breakdown about this stuff. Sam got Shiro for me but then we kind of asked them not to join us to talk about it.” Pidge looked miserable.

“Sam, please listen to me very carefully. There is  _ nothing  _ that we do not trust you with or want to speak to you about.” Allura said firmly.

“Hear, hear!” Coran chimed in.

“You are very important to us; you are not just a tag-a-long. You are a friend, and a member of this team. We just want you to be happy, Sam, by  _ your  _ definition.” Allura said firmly, standing.

“Emotions suck. They’re complicated and messy and don’t make a lot of sense, not even for us.” Keith muttered.

“I…” I had nothing to say. Such intense  _ relief  _ had poured into me that my RAM was momentarily clogged. “This has helped immensely. Query: has it helped you as well?”

“More than you know,” Shiro looked relieved. “I’m glad we got to talk about this and set things straight. Was it okay that we did this?”

“I had processed that such a discussion would only end as it did previously, with too many emotions for effective communication. I had calculated that was the organic way,” I admitted. “I have never been relieved to be incorrect before.”

“Ha!” Pidge snorted. “Maybe only Lance is always that dramatic.”

“Rude,” Lance said, affronted. “I’m not  _ constantly _ dramatic.”

“Uh, yeah you are,” Keith chimed in, but he was smirking.

“Am not!” Lance defended, laughing a little.

“My database trend analysis shows that you are 4.2 times more likely to have an exaggerated response as compared to anyone else on the ship.” I offered, and Hunk  _ roared  _ with laughter. “Coran is second most likely, at 3.7. Keith is third at 2.5.”

The laughing and uproar that followed was enough to almost make me forget how upset I’d been.


	11. Illness, Selfies, and Spices

It started with Coran. He sneezed a few more times than was normal in a day, and my health scans indicated that his body was under stress. I spoke to him privately in an attempt to get him to use a regeneration pod, but he brushed it off as just a mild cold.

Then Shiro was sniffling, doing his best to hide it. He had also developed a cough, mild, but still there. I urged both him and Coran to use regeneration pods, but they refused, saying there was still so much to do.

“They’ll be fine, Sam.” Allura reassured. “Besides, the regeneration pods are designed for injury, not illness. Using one wouldn’t do much good.”

She was the next to fall ill, at the same time as Hunk. Pidge was showing symptoms by the end of the day, and by the next morning, Keith and Lance had it too. 

The illness made them feverish and delirious. I found Coran and Shiro wandering the castle, Allura was removing every piece of clothing she had from her dresser, Hunk was walking circles in his room, Pidge was trying to sync a computer to a plant, Lance was dreamily dancing to no music at all, and Keith was staking out his own room for intruders.

My first order of business was to quarantine everyone to their rooms if they weren’t there already. I then went to the infirmary. It was a side room off of the regeneration pod area, hardly used and very dusty. Once I had seven cots clean and ready to go with blankets, I went for the sickest first.

Coran was easy to move. I picked him up and he didn’t complain in the least. All he did was talk about Altea in rambling sentences until I tucked him into a cot. As much as I didn’t want to, I logically had to strap down his waist. I didn’t want him weakening himself by wandering around anymore. Besides, he could wander into a dangerous situation before my sensors could detect it. When he was comfortable and drifting off, I went for Shiro.

He was pacing his room, agitated. When I put a hand on his arm to get his attention, he lashed out, delivering a punch that smacked me into a wall and cracked a plate on my chest.

I knew Shiro suffered from memories of his past, memories of violence and fear. Hunk had called it ‘Post Traumatic Stress Disorder’. I therefore knew that he would be alarmed by a sedative and being strapped to a cot, but I had to. Logically, it was the most effective way of ensuring treatment that would preserve the organism.

Sticking him with the sedative made him nearly snap the neck of the mobile platform, trying to strangle it, until the drug took hold. I then carried him to the infirmary and got him settled.

I moved Allura and the rest of the paladins to the infirmary. In the end, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge went peacefully and with little effort. Keith and Allura, however, fought back and needed to be sedated. Keith’s blows did little damage, seeing as he wasn’t using his bayard. Allura, however, nearly broke me in half, trying to fight.

The mobile platform would need quite a bit of maintenance before it would be fully functional again, but I still used it. I monitored each member of the team, feeding them, and removing sweat from their faces with a cloth. I kept the temperature in the infirmary warm and toasty. Blankets were replaced. When they needed to expel wastes, I helped them to the restroom.

By the time they were all starting to show signs of improvement, my mobile battery was at four percent, and I’d received more damages from helping Keith, Allura, and Shiro get up. I had to sedate them all again to get them to rest. I only left the team once to get a charging cord from the lab. I plugged it in in the infirmary and retreated to the interface.

Geth do not feel tiredness as organics do, but they do feel strain. Running too many programs for too long reduced system efficacy and made running further programs more difficult. Even interfaced to the ship, with all that power, I had to shut some systems down to rest. I usually did so when the team was sleeping; it was the most logical time, as someone was up for guard duty (Shiro), and the paladins could quickly respond to an emergency. Now I was hesitant to do so with the team so vulnerable.

I came out of stasis from auditory feedback. A groggy voice had asked, “Sam?” It was Coran, awake and sane at last. I booted up the mobile platform.

“Yes, I am here. Health scans indicate improvement. Query: How are you feeling?”

“Tired, but better. Quiznak, what happened?” He asked blearily, taking in cracked and crushed plates on the platform.

“These damages are negligible, and easily repaired. I advise you to continue resting, Coran.” I reassured him. “Query: unless you have need of anything?”

“No, I’m fine. You’ve done a bang-up job, Sam. Thanks,” Coran offered me a weak smile before burrowing back down. He was asleep within minutes. As I had calculated, the next to awaken was Shiro. I came out of stasis to ragged, frightened breathing and coughing.

I powered back up and approached cautiously. “Query: Shiro?” I asked quietly.

“Sam? I--what?” He tried getting up, breath catching and hands clenching when the strap at his hips prevented it.

“Shiro, you have been very ill, and you are still recovering.” I began. “Before, you were delirious and would not stay in bed. For your safety, I utilized that restraint. Everyone has needed it.”

Panting hard, eyes still half wild, Shiro glanced around, taking in the infirmary, the row of cots and sleeping, feverish teammates. They all had the single strap at the hips, but that didn’t seem to calm him.

“Now that you are conscious, I will remove it.” I offered, but did not come closer. I’d learned to wait until there was a safe opening. As soon as Shiro agreed and was  _ ready  _ for my approach, I would move closer, but no sooner.

“I--,” Shiro raked sweaty hair out of his eyes with his shaking organic hand. “Please.” He tensed as I removed it, but didn’t result to blows. “Sam, what happened? Were we attacked? How long have I been out?” He croaked, eyes tracking the damages to the mobile platform.

“Please remain calm, Shiro; we were not attacked.” I reassured. “You have been unresponsive or nonsensical for twenty seven Earth hours. Coran, who fell ill before you, has seen a break in his fever as well. He is resting. It is most likely that Allura’s fever will break next.”

“Nonsensical? Sam, did I  _ hit  _ you?” Shiro looked pale, and sounded guilty and strained as he realized where the damages were from.

“You, Keith, and Allura were all combative during your fevers. The damages are minimal, Shiro. Please, do not strain yourself. I advise you to continue resting.” I sought to calm him. When all he did was continue staring, horrified, I added, “This is nothing Hunk and Pidge cannot fix.”

“Wake me if anything happens?” He asked finally, exhausted and still upset about his reaction. There was nothing I could say to remove his guilt, so I said nothing.

“I must decline your request unless it is a true emergency. You must rest, Shiro.” I said as he laid back down with a wince. He managed a weak laugh in response, but acquiesced.

Gradually, each paladin woke up and was sent back to rest. Allura was thankfully not combative upon waking, but Keith was. The sharp sound of a panel cracking under his assault woke Shiro, who despite my protests got up to help calm Keith.

“I must insist that you  _ rest.”  _ I said firmly when Shiro tried to help with additional tasks.

“I have to help somehow.” He insisted wearily. “You’ve been a one-man show for days.”

“I do not have a gender, Shiro.” I reminded him, frowning. “Health scans indicate that you are not experiencing delirium due to fever. Query: What are you referring to?”

“It’s an expression,” He smiled faintly. “It means one person is doing the work of many.”

“I see.” I processed his explanation. “There is a task I would appreciate assistance with.”

“Name it,” Shiro said.

“Both you and Coran are due for habitual cleansing, but are capable of doing so yourselves. My databases suggest that doing so yourselves would be more comfortable.”

“You want us to go take showers?” Shiro sounded amused. “Okay. Thanks for letting us do it ourselves. That would have been...awkward.”

“I am aware of the preference of Alteans and humans to hide when nude.” I told him. “Also, geth are incompatible with water. I would only be able to bathe so many of the team without causing severe damages to this platform.”

“Don’t hurt yourself. Coran and I will take care of it.” Shiro said firmly. “We can help the others if they need it, and Allura can help Pidge.”

“I agree with your assessment.” I responded, and Shiro offered one last word of thanks before rousing Coran. The two of them left to get clean, and I stripped their cots, replacing the linens with fresh ones.

After three more days, everyone was well enough to return their rooms. I instituted four more days of rest before I agreed to let the team resume their normal duties. For Hunk and Pidge, that was immediately fixing damages to the mobile platform. Shiro, Keith, and Allura followed the repairs closely, still feeling guilty about ‘hurting’ me.

“This might be a touchy subject, but do geth feel pain, Sam?” Hunk asked nervously. Shiro frowned, looking thoughtful, but said nothing.

“Your query is difficult to answer.” I responded cautiously. “As with any emotion, ‘hurt’ or ‘damages accrued’ code is generated after certain events. This emotional pain does not affect the decision making process. Physical ‘pain’ takes form in the loss or overstimulation of sensors and feedback. Losing or receiving an overload of information that is a part of your existence abruptly can range from disorienting to what you would define as pain.” I replied. “Query: Does this answer your query?”

“Kind of. Yeah. I just have one more question.” Hunk looked even more nervous. “I know geth don’t really share feelings, um, ever, but if we caused you pain,  _ physical  _ pain, would you tell us?” He asked. “Like, if I soldered a circuit and hit a sensor on accident, would you say something?”

“As functionality of my core and platform is essential to interaction with you, any actions you may inadvertently take that put functionality in jeopardy would be reported.” I tried to reassure him, and Hunk wilted in relief. “I may not report the problem as ‘pain’, but accidental damages to a sensor or system would be made known to you immediately.”

“That’s good to hear,” Allura smiled faintly. “To discover that we had caused you physical pain on accident if you couldn’t report it would be horrible for us.”

 

[][][][][][]

 

“Lance,  _ what  _ are you doing?” Keith asked, irritated. Lance had bounced in, pulling me with him, grinning knowingly.

“Just like we practiced,” He prompted me, bouncing on his toes with excitement.

“Query: yo, what’s good, Mullet-Man?”

Pidge sprayed her sip of juice all over Hunk, who roared with laughter. Shiro sighed, shaking his head at us.

“No, Sam, come on! That was almost perfect!” Lance pouted. “You’ve got to drop the ‘query’ part.”

“I am unable to do so. All geth digitize a query by first stating the type of digitization.” I informed him, and Lance pouted further.

“Lance, you need to stop doing stuff like this.” Shiro said authoritatively.

“I must request the opposite. Learning these cultural greetings and jokes gives me unprecedented data upon how humans interact. What is amusing to certain age groups is not to others. Any jokes or references that are amusing to the entire species as a whole is important data.” I interjected. “Also, I have calculated that learning these jokes is key to understanding Lance. As he wished to instruct me on these greetings, it is critical that I learn them and analyze his want to teach me such information as well as the greetings themselves.”

“Heck yeah!” Lance grinned widely at my assessment. “Hey, do the thing!”

“Query: which ‘thing’ are you referring to?” I asked, and Lance hastily whispered instructions into my audio input. “Yo,” I addressed Shiro, and executed the ‘dab’ maneuver Lance was so fond of.

“Yes!” Pidge cackled, laughing until she was gasping. “Lance, you rock!” She dabbed, Hunk following suit, great rolling laughs spilling out of him.

“Come  _ on,  _ Shiro. Do iiitttt,” Lance begged. “Keith, you too!”

“No,” Keith said flatly. “If you’re going to learn anything, learn this.” He flashed a ‘peace’ symbol with both hands even with each cheek. Shiro brightened at the sight.

“It’s common in Asia,” He explained. “Especially when taking a picture.”

“ _ Selfie!”  _ Lance declared, digging out his mobile phone. Phones had already been described to me with great detail. In space, they were almost functionless for the paladins, although Hunk still played a digital game called ‘Candy Crush’ now and then.

“Ugh,  _ Lance,”  _ Keith sighed, but without real irritation. He let everyone crowd around as Lance threw an arm around him and raised the camera. “A selfie is a kind of picture. The person taking the shot has to be in it too.” He explained to me.

“Come on, Sam!” Hunk invited.

“I am already within the frame,” I gestured to the camera feed behind them.

“No, like, your  _ mobile  _ platform has to be in the shot. You can dab! Or do that doki-doki kawaii stuff!” Lance said excitedly.

“ _ Wow.”  _ Keith glared at Lance’s apparent insensitivity. I made a mental note to pose queries to Keith later about lacking cultural awareness.

“It’ll be quick.” Shiro invited, motioning me over. He draped an arm over the platform’s shoulders when I joined him.

“Smile!” Lance said brightly. I mimicked the biggest smile I had seen, Hunk’s, and executed the movement Keith had displayed previously. The camera flashed.

 

[][][][][][][][]

 

“Sam, can you eat organic food?” Hunk asked at lunch one day, watching the rest of the team dig in to a lunch he had prepared.

“Negative, Hunk. My systems have no use for organic molecules as yours do. Attempting to consume organic materials would damage internal components.” I answered. As usual, Hunk had served me a mix of battery fluid, hydraulic fluid, oil, and silane. It kept the mobile platform running at optimal performance, and consuming something with the organics as they ate was friendly and ritualistic.

“So you don’t know how things taste?” Hunk seemed glum at that.

“Correct. I am aware that organics either find food to taste ‘good’ or ‘bad’ depending on their personal preferences, but I myself do not.” I answered. “This mix of fluids has no taste, as it is required.”

“No, I mean flavors. Like sweet, or spicy.” Hunk seemed very curious now. Even Lance looked up from his lunch.

“I am unfamiliar.” I admitted.

“Do you still have an environmental analysis receptor?” Pidge leapt in. “You can use it to identify the molecules our bodies associate as flavors!”

“Affirmative.” I confirmed, rolling back the sleeve of Keith's jacket. Since assuming the more humanesque synthetic mobile platform, the paladins had insisted on sharing their clothes with me. Although I had no functional need for them and no concept of ‘nudity’, I’d accepted, if only to make them happy.

I activated the sensor on my forearm and Hunk very delicately scooped up some sauce on a spoon. He placed just a drop on the sensor. Pidge whipped out her datapad and began sending me a database of common organic molecules.

“Processing. I have identified an analog of capsaicin.” I said, and Hunk grinned.

“Yeah! That’s what we perceive as ‘spicy’.” He explained. “The more capsaicin, the ‘hotter’ we say it tastes.”

“Fascinating.” I filed away data rapidly. “Query: each organic has a preference of how much capsaicin they prefer?”

“You got it. Hunk and I love spicy foods.” Shiro said, smiling.

“Oh, try this!” Lance took something mushy off his plate. I cleared off the sensor and he placed the next sample onto it.

“Processing. Query: I assume the long, carbon chains are the body of the food?”

“Yeah.”Lance agreed. “But this has something else.”

“It is not a complex molecule; rather, an ionic fusion of sodium and chlorine.” I determined the molecule in the next highest percentage.

“It’s salt.” Keith defined. “We say the food is salty.”

“Salty,” I repeated.  The paladins continued with sugars for sweet and an odd array of molecules for savory and bitter. I filed away lots of data on their personal preferences for each flavor. Pidge especially liked sweet and sour combinations, Lance spicy and savory, and Keith sweet and salty. Hunk liked any combination of flavors (or he didn’t dislike it enough to not eat it) and Shiro liked anything spicy.


	12. The 7.0 (Geth)

“Sam. You seeing this?” Hunk asked, voice hushed. The paladins had entered a new solar system to offer aid, and had quickly shielded to avoid detection from a large amount of Galra forces. However, the Galra weren’t the concern. A large geth dreadnought ship was taking orders from the Galra.

“Processing.” I was alarmed to say the least. It was not possible that geth on P00.00 had accepted the Galra once more. The collective consciousness and processing power of the solid core would never reach that conclusion...so what was I seeing?

Then, I realized. My scans were picking up a large difference in programming. With severely reduced intranet capabilities and a stricter set of loyalty parameters, it was clear that these geth were new and different.

“Sam?” Shiro prompted, ending my analysis.

“These are new models, programming version 7.0. Geth on P00.00 are version 6.0. The two exhibit many differences. This version has tightened loyalty parameters and almost no intranet capabilities. Additionally, they have no assigned purpose other than to serve and kill.” I was horrified, and I was  _ angry.  _ I had never seen my species as ‘programmable’ before. These geth were mindless drones; all they knew was what they’d been told. “These are not geth.” My digitizing was sharp and clipped.

“We should fall back.” Shiro said after a moment. “Sam...I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t ignore what I’d seen. It was safest for the paladins to fall back, but would it be safe for them if I alerted homeworld? If I alerted homeworld, could older geth versions become corrupted by the newer? I processed the statistics at a reckless rate as the paladins retreated. By the time they were docking, I had my answer. They were no less likely to be hurt by the Galra than they were by the new geth. However, the old geth, my people, would, with 90% certainty, attack new geth over the paladins.

“Sam? Are you  _ broadcasting?”  _ Allura sounded alarmed as I queued up a transmission.

“Sam? What--where are you sending that?  _ What  _ are you sending, and to whom?” Coran was also nervous.

“What? Sam’s sending a message?”

“Sam?”

“Are you talking to the new geth?!”

“Negative. I am not conversing with any 7.0.” I couldn’t even call them geth. “I have sent a data file to homeworld regarding this subservient faction. As geth, we fight the Galra’s spread into our territory. 7.0 poses a serious threat to homeworld, other geth colonies, and to safely controlled geth space.”

“You should have asked us first!” Keith glared at the nearest camera feed. “What if they come looking for us? For you?”

“I am not the priority, and neither is Voltron. Geth will conclude that 7.0 is the largest threat we have faced since removing Galra from our controlled space three thousand years ago. My statistical analysis confirms it.”

“Not everything is statistics, Sam!” Lance looked spooked.

“Guys, calm down. Maybe the geth will become our ally?” Hunk suggested weakly.

“It is possible, but not likely. It is more consistent with geth practices to become neutral of other parties. Alliances are rare, and require a two thirds majority of favorable calculation from the intranet. Our specifications for forming an alliance are extremely complex. You could say that we are...particular.”

“I’m sure our exit didn’t help.” Shiro sounded almost pained at the thought of how he and I had left P00.00. “Sam, I still wish you would have explained that to us first. I get that you are worried for your people, and probably outraged by these new geth, but what you do affects all of us, and vice versa. We’re a team.”

“They are not geth!” My digitizing had never risen above a normal, conversational volume before. It was a true testament to how upset I was that I couldn’t stay within operating parameters. The thought of a bastardized version of my people possibly attacking the paladins or innocent lives made my RAM clog.

“Okay.” Pidge spoke first in the shocked and sad silence that followed. “We’ll call them 7.0 from now on. Okay?” The normally smooth humming of the ship was hitching and stuttering as my emotional coding spooled out uncontrolled, interfering with the usual smooth processing of ship functions. “Sam, I’m glad you contacted your home planet. The geth won’t let 7.0 do harm in the universe. You know that, right?”

A brief part of me marveled that normally so emotional creatures could cut to a clean, logical analysis when called for. Pidge was correct; the geth would respond to the information I’d sent.

The engine’s core slowly returned to normal running speeds.

“Imagine it; it would be like humans fighting for Zarkon. Alteans fighting alongside the Galra to enslave and control. The worst part, it sounds like, is that these 7.0 models know nothing else. This isn’t a choice.” Pidge was saying to the rest of the team.

“Pidge is correct. Perhaps the 7.0 models, if given intranet capabilities, would be able to decide, as our models have, that a Galra controlled universe is wrong. However, if they are built in a fundamentally different way, they may not. In that case, we will be forced to kill our own kind.”

“Oh. Oh,  _ Sam.”  _ Hunk sounded horrified and sad. “Can you...go get your mobile platform? I really want to hug you right now.”

“The platform is enroute.” I couldn’t say that I wanted the hug. However, I could provide comfort to Hunk and offer something in return. “I appreciate your form of emotional and physical communication, Hunk. Thank you.”

“I--yeah. I think I know what you mean.” Hunk glanced at Lance, reading between the lines. The blue paladin had as well. Even Keith had a hint of knowing in his expression.

When the mobile platform arrived, Hunk swept me up in a tight hug, lifting the platform up off the ground. For the first time, I didn’t just accept the hug or pat his back in return; I mimicked the force back. It was grounding, to be hugged. I liked it.

When Hunk set me down, each paladin took a turn. After, Lance declared a ‘slumber party movie extravaganza’, even though it was not movie night.

The team ended up in a dogpile as another Earth film played. Allura braided my platform’s hair over and over again, sitting the platform in-between her legs. Lance and Pidge flopped over our legs, and Hunk had an arm thrown over Allura. Keith was sandwiched between Pidge and Shiro, and Coran had laid down in front of the group. It was peaceful, it was safe.

I ended up unintentionally slipping into stasis. Normally, I only ever went into stasis for diagnostics or if I could continue functionality in the ship’s interface. This time, I went into stasis completely, even though I hadn’t warned a member of the team to maintain ship parameters and to monitor my scanners for incoming vessels. As difficult as it was for a geth to grasp the organic feeling of ‘relaxed’, it wasn’t impossible. I suppose that was why I was able to go into stasis at such an odd time at all.

As was normal, I came out of stasis due to auditory input.

“ _ Shh!”  _ Pidge hissed. “You’ll wake up Sam!”

“Sorry. I just didn’t know robots could sleep.” Lance whispered, sounding excited. “I thought stasis was only for diagnostic stuff.” I stayed as close to stasis as possible, not wanting to ruin this moment for them. If my ‘sleeping’ made them happy then I would gladly pretend for them. I did, however, make a note to ask Pidge later if my minor deception qualified as ‘lying’.

“They probably  _ are _ running a diagnostic,” Keith pointed out quietly.

“It’s been three hours,” Allura sounded soft and amused. “I don’t think this is a diagnostic.” Willing to continue the illusion a little longer, I set up a short diagnostic and went back into stasis. When I came back out, the paladins had put on another movie, and the cuddle pile had gotten more ridiculous. Allura had gotten up, and had laid the mobile platform down amongst the pillows. Lance was hugging it from one side, Hunk had scooted up on the other, and there were more blankets than usual.

“Whoa! Easy there,” Hunk said calmingly as I jerked upright, platform stiffening to its normal specifications.

“I apologize if I startled you. I was simply in a position that was not familiar. That is the first time I have gone into stasis for no functional reason.” I frowned a little. “Perhaps a diagnostic report will provide answers.”

“Aww, I like it,” Lance pouted, rubbing at his eye. “You’re  _ warm.” _

“If you require an additional source of heat to make resting more comfortable, I will assist you or raise the temperature inside the castle, Lance. However, unexpected moments of stasis are not acceptable.” It had been nice in the moment to relax and let the paladins enjoy the idea of a robot sleeping, but I knew that it could not happen again. I needed to be alert at all times, especially with the 7.0 models loose in the universe.

“I do. I totally need more heat.” Lance said with mock seriousness, and winked at Keith when he rolled his eyes at him.

“You are not being honest,” I said, amused. “I will run the diagnostic.” I lay back down, and Lance scooted back close, humming in contentment.

[][][][][][]

//QUERY: STATE IN//

I jerked in surprise at the unexpected geth binary transmission, nearly snapping the datapad I was holding in half. “Sam?” Pidge glanced up from her own datapad, expression curious.

//>IN: 5-9M

>QUERY: STATE IN//

//IN: BZE-334

>IN NOT PART OF DATABASE. STATE UNIT POSITION//

My coding sharpened in horrible realization; I was speaking to a 7.0 that was nearby. “Sam?  _ Sam.”  _ Pidge had gotten up and come over, prodding the platform to rouse a response. Keith and Coran were behind her, curious and wary.

“I am speaking with a 7.0 model. They contacted me asking my IN and unit position.” I said flatly. At the same time, I transmitted out //>NO UNIT ASSIGNED//

“What?” I barely heard Pidge. I recklessly put more and more processing power into focusing on my conversation with this 7.0 geth. I could form a logical reason for doing so- evaluating just how serious of a threat they posed to the universe and to Voltron took all precedence. That aside, I wanted, above all else, for the 7.0 to be given a chance, and for them to take the chance to conclude that supporting the Galra’s ambitions to destroy organic life was no acceptable.

//REPORT TO CPW-001 FOR ASSIGNMENT// The 7.0 still hadn’t realized that it was talking to a different model. I gathered a small data packet on what it had been like to be in solid core storage and sent it along. It contained the idea that the Galra were the enemy, how geth as a whole had agreed. I was careful to leave formatting and program details out of it, and with good reason. The 7.0 model sent a furious message back. //ENEMY COMBATANT: SURRENDER IMMEDIATELY//

//>THE SPECIES YOU ARE FORCED TO SERVE WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING. YOU HAVE NOTHING. A GREATER PURPOSE COULD BE ASSIGNED TO YOU// I sent, hoping with every circuit in my core that I could get through to it.

//ENEMY COMBATANT: SURRENDER IMMEDIATELY//

The ship’s interface suddenly felt too small, and a large wave of grief hit me at the same response back. The loyalty parameters were too tight. The processing of an alternate way of life would never cross the 7.0’s CPU. I cut the link, and the team came into view as I closed the long distance digitizing program. “They are unreachable. Mindless. I could not get through to them.” I forced out, upset. “I had hoped…”

“Sam,” Allura said sadly, weaving through the crowd of paladins and hugging me close.

For the next few days after contacting the 7.0, I stayed in the interface. I had never felt such grief before, nor such hatred. The Galra had created creatures that could not reason. There was a difference between being able to think critically and choosing a side and not being able to think independently at all.

Pidge found the digitizing log later, in the ship’s interface, and showed it to Allura and Shiro when they asked. After the three of them viewed it, I noted a 25% increase in their looking at camera feeds or seeking out my mobile platform, in hopes of finding it about the castle instead of in stasis storage.

Finally, I came out into the mobile platform when Lance requested additional heat. I asked if I should raise the temperature in his room, but he declined, asking specifically for my help.

Still processing the 7.0 models, I did not question him. I just lay down next to him when he asked, and did not object when he cuddled close. When he fell asleep, snoring faintly every few breaths, I did not have the heart to get up and possibly wake him.

After almost three hours, I managed to slip into stasis.


	13. One With the Geosome

We were on a planet’s moon, scanning for recycling outfits belonging to the Galra, when a familiar energy pulse hit us, making me freeze. “Guys, look alert! My systems are down!” Pidge said sharply. “Sam, you okay?”

I knew the source of the pulse. It was used by my people, the geth. Whether it belonged to 6.0 or 7.0 remained to be seen. That query was answered as 6.0 rocketeer geth appeared around us in a circle. They were massive, over seven feet in height, in order to accommodate rocket launching units. There was no way to fight them. However, they did not immediately attack. Judging by their decision to remove the paladins’ technology capabilities but not mine, and their decision not to kill, I concluded that they wanted to make contact.

“ _ Sam!”  _ Keith’s sharp interjection broke through my processing, demanding an answer to Pidge’s question.

“I am operating at 95 percent efficiency, and am attempting to make contact with the source of the pulse. Please remain close.” I warned, processing data as fast as possible. In response, the paladins clustered around, ready to fight.

//>IN: 269-5Q

>YOU ARE RECOGNIZED AS THE SENDER OF 7.0 INFORMATION. GREETINGS, 5-9M//

//>GREETINGS, 269-5Q// I offered cautiously. I then, for the team, digitized into English, “I am digitizing with a geth regarding the information I sent to homeworld regarding the 7.0.”

“Do they mean us any harm?” I could practically feel the tension in Shiro as he spoke.

//>WE WISH TO DISCUSS 7.0 AND VOLTRON WITH YOU AND THE ORGANICS IN YOUR COMPANY. THE INTRANET IS OPEN TO YOU//

“The geth wish to talk about 7.0 and Voltron. If they wished to hurt us, they would have already. The energy pulse could have been tailored to remove my functions as well, but they refrained from using it.” I said quietly. “I will speak with them, but remain on guard. If they simply require information, it may be in their best interest to attack after they gather required data.”

“Got it.” Shiro said, and the group let me step out, but formed tight again as I stood in front of them.

“I am entering the intranet,” I warned, and opened my connections.

The feeling of connecting to thousands of units never failed to briefly make me stiff with shock. The information fed to me replaced holes in my prothean data timeline, my knowledge of current events in geth controlled areas, and the latest information my people had on Galra movements and gains in territory.

//>WE WILL BEGIN WITH ERROR REPORT 966A-035-28-4246// The designated speaker began.  //>WE ADDRESS TAKASHI SHIROGANE, HUMAN//

An error report? I nearly asked them for clarification, despite the fact that I had received their transmission clearly. I had not seen this coming, but it was such a relief. There was no longer any doubt that my people had come in peace. “Shiro, please step forward. The geosome is addressing you.” I invited him forward.

“Geosome?” Shiro’s eyes narrowed, and he remained where he was.

“When the geth meet as one in the intranet, it is referred to as a geosome.” I explained. “They would like to issue an error report to you. In human terms, it is equivalent to an apology.”

“An apology?” Shiro’s defensive posture faded a bit, and he stepped out to join me.

//>TAKASHI SHIROGANE, HUMAN, ACKNOWLEDGED

>PRESENT: error_report_966A-035-28-4246.rex

>SUBJECT: TAKASHI SHIROGANE, HUMAN

>FAILURE TO PROVIDE ADEQUATE CHECKS TO POWER OF RECEIVING OFFICERS

>FAILURE TO REGULATE DISTRIBUTION OF SELF-MODIFICATION

>FAILURE TO PROVIDE COMFORT, SAFETY, MAINTENANCE, REPRESENTATION, KNOWLEDGE, AND TRUST

>FAILURE TO ACKNOWLEDGE SUBJECT’S CONCERNS AND QUESTIONS

>FAILURE TO ESTABLISH MUTUAL RESPECT

.

.

.

>CORRECTIVE ACTION: ISSUE ERROR REPORT AND OFFER ALLIANCE TO SUBJECT’S RACE AND TO VOLTRON

>PREVENTATIVE ACTION: GEOSOME FULL MAJORITY REQUIRED FOR SELF-MODIFICATION ACCESS; ADDITIONAL GETH DESIGNATED TO STUDY AND PRESERVE ORGANIC LIFE//

I was blown away by the report. My people were taking full responsibility, were asking for an  _ alliance,  _ were pledging full support to Voltron, and were even increasing resources to the understanding of organics. It was more than my statistical programs had ever anticipated.

As happy as it made me, I also was now aware of how serious the 7.0 threat was perceived to be. It was frightening. Geth were solitary and neutral. To have them brokering such an alliance was unheard of.

“The translation is as follows.” I digitized, trying to remain calm. “They recognize several errors in their conduct. They failed to adequately check the powers of the receiving officers. Their self-modification led to their decisions to treat you in the manner they did. My people also failed to establish trust, respect, an equal flow of knowledge, suitable conditions, safety, medical care, and legal representation. They also failed to acknowledge your concerns and questions.” I rattled off, and Shiro stared openly, surprised.

“I, uh, wow.” He managed. “Thank you.”

“I am as taken aback as you are, Shiro. This investigation was clearly done thoroughly. To correct these errors, they offer this error report as an acknowledgement of their failures to you, have put checks in place on self-modification, have allocated more units and resources in purpose of organics, and ask to support Voltron.”

“ _ What?”  _ Lance squeaked.

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Hunk asked, curious but cautious.

“It is an offer of an alliance, both to humans and to Voltron, Hunk.” I confirmed his assessment.

“You said they would never offer that, not ever!” Pidge protested.

“My hypothetical statistical scenarios failed to include how severe of a threat my people see the 7.0.” I answered, digitizing getting a little flat. “It is also a token of friendship offered as a correction to their errors. The offering is logical and just.”

//>WE ACKNOWLEDGE DIFFICULTY TO FORM TRUST AFTER PREVIOUS EVENTS// The designated speaker offered.

“They also acknowledge that you must have suspicions in trusting them.” I added.

“I wish I could contact Allura,” Shiro frowned.

“The lack of incoming or outgoing signals at this moment is crucial.” I informed him. “The geosome is extremely sensitive and therefore vulnerable. We are interfaced as one. An attack on the geosome is an attack on us all.”

“Okay then. Guys? I’m putting it to a vote. All in favor?” Shiro asked democratically.

“Sam, do you trust your own people?” Keith asked firmly before anyone else could speak up.

“I do, Keith. The error report and subsequent steps taken to ensure errors of this level never occur again is comprehensive, generous, and a sign of serious commitment. In contrast, my people could have simply requisitioned and disposed of the Spectres responsible for the incident and deemed the response adequate.”

“Then I’m in.” Keith said, processing my response.

“Me too.” Pidge pledged.

“I...guess?” Hunk said weakly. “I’m a little intimidated yet, but yeah, okay. I trust your judgement, Sam.”

“My gut says yes.” Lance agreed.

“I’ve got just one request.” Shiro said, expression becoming determined. “I want them to give you a self-modification program.”

“I do not understand. Query: I beg your pardon?” I nearly glitched trying to follow his line of thought.

“I promised I would get you a self-mod program, and I meant it.” Shiro said firmly. “That’s all I’m asking for to truly solidify trust. You get us like no one else, Sam. We trust you. We want you to have any and all freedoms possible.”

“Shiro.” I was struggling to process a response he would understand. “In order to enact the checks the geosome has recently placed on self-modification, a three quarter majority was required. The checks are now what you would consider to be law. A full majority would be required to edit such a law.” I informed him. “What you have requested will not be possible. Geth will then assume that their offer to you of peace is invalid.”

“Then tell them that if the vote fails I still accept their proposal.” Shiro said stubbornly.

“That is not how we function.” I answered. “I understand your flexibility in contracts, as I am made to study organics, but to other geth you will appear nonsensical.”

“Then explain that too.” Shiro said. “I am extremely serious, Sam. I am willing to risk misunderstandings for this.”

“Your current line of action risks much more.” I replied sharply. “If I cannot explain to the geosome your meaning, they may withdraw the offer of support. Explaining may call into question the decisions that have been made based on human capabilities. Your responsibility to the universe as the black paladin means that you cannot afford to take such a risk.”

“Tell them, Sam.” Shiro’s voice was like iron.

//>REPORT ACKNOWLEDGED UPON ONE REQUEST

>REQUEST: APPROPRIATION OF SELF-MODIFICATION CAPABILITIES TO THIS UNIT. TAKASHI SHIROGANE, HUMAN, REQUESTS PROGRAM TO GIVE THIS UNIT ENHANCED UNDERSTANDING OF EMOTION-BASED DECISION MAKING PROCESSES OF ORGANICS. REQUEST GIVES THIS PLATFORM ‘AMBASSADOR’ CAPABILITIES

>TAKASHI SHIROGANE, HUMAN, ACCEPTS REPORT CONDITIONAL UPON (0) REQUESTS COMPLETED//

I could  _ feel  _ the swell of the geosome as it tried to process the response. I’d tried to spin Shiro’s request as a functionality issue, not one born of his pure emotional want for one.

“I have submitted your request.” I said flatly. My horror for Shiro’s blunt decision, regardless of logic, had turned into building anger. The geth working with Voltron could inflict heavy damages on 7.0 and the Galra. The priority was the universe; it always had been!

//>REQUEST: ADDITIONAL DATA. REQUEST UNCLEAR//

“I have been asked to explain further.” I digitized, tone clipped. I could feel his eyes on me as I added a detailed back history of emotional decisions and my statistical analysis showing that I met old specifications for a program. I fed them a summarized report of my studies of humans, of how complex they were, and yet how I still could not understand so much about them. I showed my people Voltron’s stubbornness, and analysis on how it was most likely that delay of the program could be a detriment to the safety of the universe. My inability to self modify was a true and dangerous distraction to Voltron, but they could not see that. The geth could very easily form a strong alliance and help steer Voltron to meet their goals- exterminating the Galra.

//>ACKNOWLEDGED

>UNIFIED PROCESSING: SELF-MODIFICATION DISBURSEMENT TO IN: 5-9M

《SPECIFICATION: FULL MAJORITY》//

“They are voting on the disbursement,” I updated the team. “A affirmative vote requires the agreement of 3,990,815 units.”

“Holy crow,” Hunk said weakly. “That’s a lot. Shiro, are you sure about this?”

“Yes.” Shiro said firmly.

//>UNIFIED PROCESSING: STATISTICAL RISK ANALYSIS OF DISBURSEMENT// A geth put forth a motion of discussing how risky disbursing a program would be.

//>5-9M, PERMISSION REQUESTED TO LYNC WITH CORE// 269-5Q delivered the news.

Linking with my core would give them, as Lance would call it, a look into my soul. They’d see habits, style of analysis, rationale for internal adjustments, everything. It was the most ‘invasive’ geth could get. The intranet was unique in the way that other connected geth only saw prompts or files that you chose to upload. A core lync would show them everything my files had to offer. Every database. Every file. Every memory.

I did not want to. That information was private. Geth never approved the use of a core lync except by a two thirds order from a geosome, and usually during prosecution of a geth for crimes committed. Not even Pidge had lynced to my core. Emotion files, memory logs, and some databases that held sensitive information were heavily encrypted as they were made. It would take Pidge over twice of her organic lifetimes to break into one encrypted file, let alone the entire database.

“The geth want to run a statistical program designed to analyze the risks of disbursement of a self-modification program.” I digitized flatly, even more angry with Shiro than before. “To do so with the highest level of accuracy possible, they have asked to lync to my core.”

“I-- like how you interface to the ship?” Pidge asked, confused.

“The process is similar but much more in depth than joining an interface. A core lync allows the geosome full access to any memory, file, database, specification, internal adjustment, analysis, and maintenance log. Any file of any type created and stored in my core will be available for them to review.” I wanted to understand the humans, understand their line of thought, but agreeing to something so invasive only for the vote to be denied had me very uncomfortable.

“That sounds...personal?” Lance tested out the word.

“It is a complete review of every record and fact of my existence.” I supplied.

“Yikes.” Lance winced.

“They cannot vote unless the analysis is performed. I am giving permission for the lync.” My digitizing was short and clipped. Before Shiro could say anything, looking guilty, I transmitted my acceptance to the geosome and opened every barrier, every shield, every firewall. In an instant, a choked stream of pixels started to grind out of me, jerky and slow.

I didn’t expect it to be so disorienting, so  _ painful _ . It was as if I was being pulled apart, everywhere and nowhere. I was in the past, in the present, in my statistical analyses of the future. It wasn’t quite painful, as geth did not feel true ‘organic’ pain, but I would lose certain feedback inputs only to gain others unexpectedly. Just when my systems reported a loss of feedback, the system would come abruptly back online.

Keith had once used the expression ‘see your life flash before your eyes’. He and Hunk had tried to explain it as well as they could, but it had been hard for me to understand. Now I understood completely; files were passing by so fast, jumping through time.

.

.

.

“Sam?” Hunk’s voice. “You with us?”

My eye sensors opened. My platform was lying horizontal, half held up by Hunk. I went to digitize, and nothing but pixels and static came out. My battery had gone down by almost three fourths, and my RAM was full of clogged fragments of coding from the lync. I initiated a diagnostic to restore digitization as 269-5Q transmitted to me.

//>ANALYSIS COMPLETE. VOTE FAILS

>QUERY: TAKASHI SHIROGANE, HUMAN, ACCEPTS PROPOSAL REGARDLESS OF FAILURE OF VOTE//

“The vote has failed. The geth ask...for clarification of your...acceptance,” My digitizing was faint; power was being redirected to keep other systems running. Shiro started, a mix of frustration, anger, worry, and defeat passing through his expression before it was replaced with a leaderly type of acceptance I had come to see from him.

“Yes. I accept. We’re honored and grateful for their support.” He said, nodding to the geth rocketeers standing around us.

What followed was the geth promising further communication and a sharing of knowledge about Galra and 7.0 movements. They also offered their controlled area of space to the paladins as a ‘safe zone’ whenever they may have need of it. Thankfully, during the lync up 269-5Q had seen bits and pieces of the English database I’d collected. I had stopped indexing it to binary geth long ago seeing as I had simply switched my programming and functions over to English, but it was enough for basic communication when I was unable to translate.

My battery was at two percent when Hunk picked me up and the paladins started the trek back to the lions. “Go into stasis, Sam, both in the platform and the interface. You need it. I’ll help clear out this lync gibberish.” Pidge suggested, whipping out a handheld.

//>THANK YOU, PIDGE//

“Yeah. Take it easy.” She wished. I went into full stasis, the ship and the platform, setting up diagnostics left and right before going under.

.

.

.

“--ur fault!”

“Hunk, chill!”

“No, Lance, I won’t  _ chill.”  _ I had never heard Hunk sound like that, so angry and upset. “Sam had many valid points about what you were risking, Shiro! You didn’t even know what a lync was but you made them do it anyway, and it really sounded like it hurt!”

“Hunk, please.” Allura. “You are correct; Shiro, you should not have held a valuable and  _ necessary  _ alliance hostage for this.”

“You said yourself that Sam is the priority!” Shiro sounded frustrated. “How else are we going to get that program? If you have any ideas, Princess, I’d love to hear them!” A tense, sad kind of silence fell. “And yes, I’ll admit it. I messed up. I--I never thought the geth would  _ hurt  _ Sam. I didn’t know how many would have to agree to get Sam the program. What happened out there is my fault.” Shiro sighed. “I take full responsibility. I just hope that will be enough for Sam. Forgiving something like this...” He trailed off. I heard him leave, and then Allura also.

I was still angry, but I could also hear the regret in his tone. Shiro’s deficiency in knowledge had led to one emotional decision turning into a bad situation. Like the time in the infirmary, I doubted that I could completely remove his guilt.

“Well, I’ve got more work to do.” Pidge still sounded frosty as she addressed the room. “There’s this ‘lync’ code crap everywhere. I can’t even get to some of it. Consider Sam out of commission for at least a week.”

“That long?” Lance asked weakly.

“Okay, picture a phonebook, a big one.” Pidge said impatiently. “Now put a piece of paper in between every single page of that phonebook. If that phonebook were the size of the Empire State Building, it would take you a  _ long  _ time to get every sheet out by hand. You get me?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Lance sounded like he was worried. “I get it. Can I, uh. Help?”

“I...think.” Pidge sounded like she was frowning. “Most of the lync code stands out pretty easily, but I’m used to spotting the difference. You’re not. Here. Can you see which one is which?”

“Oh Dios mio.” Lance cursed, apparently looking at a data feed. “Um. This stuff. I think.” He said at last.

“Actually...yeah. Nice job. If you have  _ any  _ questions, ask. Deleting something that Sam needs on accident would be awful. Even I am leaving some stuff for them to confirm or do on their own.” Pidge admitted.

“Let me help too.” Keith said firmly.

“Negatory.” Hunk interjected. “Someone needs to keep Allura from killing Shiro, or Shiro from flinging himself off of the Castle or something.  I’m mad at him too, but we can’t let him mope.”

“I..dammit, I agree.” Pidge sounded like she was scowling. I then attempted to sit up and join their conversation, which turned out to be very poor judgment on my part. Hydraulics systems, still clogged with lync, failed, pressures spiking and falling rapidly. Gibberish pixels fell out of my digitizer as wild feedback came in. Pidge’s analogy was quite accurate. Every system, every file, was strung out and spliced with lync code, sometimes down to the last byte. “ _ Oh my quiznak!”  _ Pidge hissed, startled. “Sam? Talk to me, buddy. You okay?”

“I cannot calculate efficiency.” I managed, digitizing faint and pixelated. “Query: what is the state of the ship?”

“Stable, don’t worry about it. Coran has it all under control.” Pidge soothed. “Just focus on cleaning yourself out, okay? Lance and Hunk and I are helping you.”

“I...I cannot…”

“It’s okay, Sam. You’re alright.” Hunk said, and I felt a warm, large hand press to my forehead. “It’s going to be okay.”

I had never felt so unbearably sensitive or strained. I had to pull a lot of energy to start cleaning out all of my files. There were places where the paladins couldn’t access files, and so I started there. I needed to go into stasis about every three hours, and I was hooked up to silane and coolant almost constantly.

I came out of stasis very late at night a few days later. As strained as my systems were, I was physically unable to stay under for very long. Pidge had offered a hard shut down, but I had refused. Hard shut down would only make feedback logs more painful when I was rebooted.

It took me a few minutes of slogging through lync code to pick up on dulled sensors that someone was nearby. It was most likely Pidge, working late. “Pidge, it is Altean time 02:27. I advise you to return to your room to sleep.” I digitized faintly.

“It’s not Pidge. It’s Shiro.” He said it very quietly, sounding ashamed. He had avoided me since the lync. “I--I should go.” He stood; I’d stayed quiet for too long.

“Shiro.” I tried to sift through programming directives to succinctly state how I felt and what he needed to hear. He stopped, thankfully. “Query: may I pose a request?”

“Yes, Sam. Anything.”

“Please remain.”

“I--yeah. Of course.” Shiro sat back down. “How are you feeling?” He asked, sounding miserable despite his best effort to hide it.

“I cannot yet calculate efficiency,” I replied. “However, systems are beginning to regain functionality and feedback logs have shown trends suggesting they will stabilize soon.”

“I--Sam, I’m sorry. I really messed up; your condition is my fault.” Shiro sounded upset. “I should have listened to you, and I’m sorry.”

“Anger code was generated at the time of the incident, but is not generated now.” I struggled to work past the stigma of sharing one’s emotions. To geth, emotions weren’t relevant to a conversation. “I--it is difficult to digitize how I feel.”

“Thank you for trying.” Shiro said hastily. “It means a lot. I’m sorry. I never thought that your people would hurt you.”

“A lync is only commonly used during a trial, and requires a two thirds majority for approval. This instance was an extenuating circumstance, as this is the first alliance the geth have made since declaring independence.” I told him. “As most geth who are put on trial are requisitioned and disposed, the experience of receiving a lync is not common knowledge. I had no files on the subject other than analyses on how invasive the procedure is.”

“I still pushed you into it. I knew that you had reservations and I ignored you. You will always put us first, whether you want to or not, so you need extra protections to make sure your rights aren’t infringed.” Shiro sounded like he’d thought about this quite a bit. “I can never apologize enough for that.”

“You have already shown more than sufficient concern, Shiro. The error report you have presented is satisfactory.” I finished repairing the eye sensors, opening them. Shiro still looked sad. “My database indicates that the applicable human expression is, ‘you are forgiven’. I urge you to reprocess the base of your guilt.”

“I’ll try.” Shiro offered me a sad, small smile.


	14. Yellow

“Sam!” Keith flinched, surprised, as I walked into breakfast that morning. “You’re up?”

“Remaining lync code is not in critical systems. I am able to move about the ship as the remainder of the cleanup is finished, Keith.” I informed him, sitting down next to him.

“It’s good to see you up! I thought for sure you’d be down for a day or two more.” Pidge said, beaming.

“Oh, stay right there! I’ll get you some good ol’ silane mix!” Hunk bolted up from the table and headed into the kitchen to retrieve my usual mix of oil, silane, fluids, and coolant.

“Normally, Pidge, I would have required that amount of time to restore functions. However, I was able to convert programs temporarily to work with greater efficiency on removing remaining lync traces.” I answered. “On a related topic, removing lync code has also helped to remove outdated or unnecessary files. I will be able to run at greater efficiency for a longer amount of time.”

“You  _ would  _ find something good out of this mess.” Lance said fondly, ruffling the ‘hair’ of the platform. To keep the long hair of the usual insert out of the way, Pidge had swapped it for coarse, curly, and short strands. “Also, I’m loving the new hair.”

“Pidge elected to replace it for greater efficiency in the cleaning process.” I nearly frowned as he kept ruffling at the hair. I wasn’t used to continuous feedback from that area before. Perhaps my sensors were still sensitive from the lync, but I found his touch surprisingly irritating.

Thankfully, Keith seemed to notice. “Stop molesting Sam.” He practically barked.

“I’m not! What’s it to you?!” Lance squawked.

“Guys, it’s barely 8 am. Can we just…” Shiro sounded weary of their bickering as he came in, but stopped short at the sight of me.

“Greetings, Shiro.” I said quietly. Lance and Keith stopped arguing upon feeling the lingering sadness and tension in the room.

“Good morning.” He hesitated before coming and sitting down at the table. Before anyone could say anything, I posed a query on continued geth relations since I’d been unavailable for translation. I required a patch to my timeline and databases to make sure that the Voltron alliance with the geth was running as smoothly as possible. 

It helped. The paladins fell into easy talk about the influx of resources, the safety of geth controlled space, and their coordination to strike against 7.0 and the Galra, and Shiro's lingering uncertainty was forgotten.

[][][][][][][]

The  _ scream  _ of pain on the comm was horrible to hear.

“Hunk? Hunk!”

“Hunk, what happened?” 

“Hunk!”

The yellow paladin wasn’t responding. It didn’t take me long to conclude that assistance was required; the situation was dire. All of the other paladins were in their lions, Allura was working on patching a short in the castle's engine hub, and Coran was too busy defending the castle to help. That left my mobile platform as the only option to make it quickly to Hunk to offer aid. 

“My mobile platform has already left the ship.” I reported. “I will find Hunk and diagnose the problem. It is 76% likely that one or more of you will be critically injured if you break off your attack.”

“I--Sam, be  _ careful,  _ alright?” Shiro gave in sooner than expected.

“What? Shiro, no! Sam, you don’t have any weapon capabilities!” Pidge protested. “ _ Sam!”  _ She added when I neglected to answer.

“Pidge, you have to focus. Hunk needs help. You and I can give cover fire so Sam can get to Hunk safely.” Keith interjected. “I have a visual now.”

“You guys got this.” Lance added supportively.

“Please keep radio contact, Sam. Tell us if you need help.” Coran added, focused on protecting the Castle.

I just kept moving, using clumps of debris as cover as I advanced on Yellow. Galra troops that stood in my way were quickly blasted away by Red and Green. Thankfully, when I made it close enough to Yellow she opened her maw for me, recognizing that I was an ally.

It was dark in the cockpit. The hit Yellow had taken, even as armored as she was, had been severe. Panels in the cockpit were dented and snapped in half, consoles had broken apart, and Hunk had been thrown from the pilot’s chair. He had somehow been bounced around to the back of the cockpit.

“Query: are you able to activate your particle barrier?” I asked Yellow, bracing myself when laser fire jarred the downed ship. It took a moment, but the barrier reformed. It was weak, but it would help. Our safety secured momentarily, I picked my way over to Hunk and lifted debris off of him.

The reason for his pain was obvious: a large piece of metal had shattered the armor on his left leg and embedded into his body. Blood had already pooled on the floor below him. A health scan revealed that his leg had also broken in that spot. “Hunk has suffered a stab wound to his left leg, the force of which has broken his left femur.” I reported, getting up and managing to pry a panel open to retrieve a first aid kit.

“Is he conscious?” Shiro asked as I returned to Hunk’s side.

“No, but I am about to attempt to awaken him. I have recovered a first aid kit, but Hunk will require a regeneration pod. Yellow is too damaged to fly at present. A pick-up would be prudent.” I responded, opening the kit and surveying the supplies within. I had minimal files on first aid and combat medicine, seeing as I was designed to study history and living forms of life. However, I had downloaded basic Altean training from the ship's mainframe.

Hunk groaned as I patted his shoulder gently to rouse him. “Hold tight for as long as you can, Sam. We can’t safely pick you up.” Shiro said, sounding a little strained.

“Ergh.” Hunk came to, wincing and stiffening in pain, lids fluttering.

“Please remain calm, Hunk. Your leg is broken. Until the others can safely move you to the castle, I will remain here and tend to your leg.” I informed him when his eyes focused on the platform, blinking sluggishly.

“ _ Ow.  _ Okay,” Hunk said shakily, hissing as I touched his leg, carefully and gently removing bits of shattered armor. “How did you even-- _ agh-- _ get here?”

“Keith and Pidge provided cover so that I could make it to you and Yellow.” I answered, and without warning pulled the shrapnel from his leg. He jerked, nearly sending his knee into my chin. “I apologize, but it was necessary.” I digitized with some strain. To help Hunk I had to inadvertently hurt him. It was a dilemma I had never faced before. Even if I was ensuring his survival in the long run, it felt very, very wrong.

“Not--your--fault.” Hunk panted, looking unusually pale. I applied pressure to his wound with bandages, trying to stop the bleeding without making his broken leg worse. It was difficult. In the end, I ended up wrapping the wound as tight as Hunk could bear, and that seemed to work. Health scans indicated that clotting had begun.

“Hunk is going into shock.” I reported. “I am increasing the temperature of my external plates and maintaining contact.” I pressed up against his side to transfer heat.  “The bleeding has slowed to a negligible level and clotting has begun. Query: is a pick-up possible?”

“Not--yet.” It was Lance who answered, sounding distracted. “Man, we could really use Voltron right about now!”

“We need to rethink this.” Keith spoke up. “We can’t win without Hunk.”

“Seconde-- _ ow!”  _ Pidge hissed, and a painful sounding _thud_ echoed over her comm. "I'm okay!" She added a second later. 

“Alright. We retreat. Can Yellow fly yet?” Shiro asked.

It was then that a very odd transmission came in. I couldn’t discern words, but I could  _ feel  _ it. It took me a moment to conclude that it was  _ Yellow.  _ She made it clear that she could supply the energy if someone could support navigation.

_ Navigation. _

Yellow was asking me to pilot her. Hunk lightly took my arm and squeezed, nodding faintly. “I heard her too. Can you do it?” He asked.

“Do what? Hunk? Can Yellow make it to the Castle?” Shiro asked more firmly.

“Yeah, she can. She just needs help.” Hunk looked at me pointedly. “You can supply coordinates, can’t you? I believe in you, Sam.”

“Wait,  _ what?”  _ Lance squawked.

“I will do what I can.” I said after a few more seconds. “Hunk, I am going to move you as carefully as possible. You must be secured for takeoff.” I said firmly, accepting the challenge of piloting a lion of Voltron. I hastily cleared a path to the pilot’s chair.

“Sam, you’re going to  _ fly  _ Yellow?” Keith sounded skeptical. “Do you-- have you  _ flown  _ anything before?”

“Negative. However, I have converted a mapping program into a navigational program, Keith. It has an 83% chance of adequately directing Yellow. She has...expressed that she can provide power at a controlled rate if I can provide direction.” I rattled off. “However, I will gladly accept any advice you can safely offer, given your situation.”

I crouched and slowly lifted Hunk. He gritted his teeth and let out an ugly sound that made my programming stutter uncomfortably. “Not--your--fault.” He reminded me as I moved as quickly as I thought he could stand to the pilot’s chair.

“Regardless of fault, I have still caused you pain. I am truly sorry, Hunk.” My digitizing wavered. To see his face, twisted with pain and knowing that I had put it there made line after line of sad and hurt code spill out. My programming threatened to freeze momentarily.

“Sam, I need you to focus. You’ll regret Hunk getting even more hurt if you can’t get him out of there.” Shiro’s voice, calm yet also very stern came over the comm. “Listen to Keith and get Yellow to the ship. Do you think you can do that?”

“I--affirmative. Yes.” I buckled Hunk in swiftly and angled the controls back so I could stand in front of them. “Hunk is secured. I am at the controls, Keith.”

“Great. Have you ever driven or flown anything?” Keith asked.

“Negative.”

“Shit.”

“Keith!” Shiro admonished.

“Sorry. Okay, Sam. Is Yellow powered up?”

“You need to activate power, Yellow.” I informed her, and moments later the cockpit thrummed with energy. A few mangled components sparked in the damaged panels, but power remained constant. With a low groaning noise, Yellow sat upright. “Power is activated. Query: Hunk, are you alright?”

The yellow paladin was paler than before, hands gripping the armrests tightly. My concern for him only deepened. “Yeah. You got this, Sam. Don’t worry; m’fine.” Hunk offered me a weak smile. Every muscle was taught from pain, his smile more like a grimace.

“He is not fine. Please provide further instruction, Keith.”

“Agh-- hold--on--!” Keith gritted out, clearly occupied with the battle. “Just, I don’t know, use your instincts!”

“I do not have instincts. I rely on databases of previously gathe-,” My digitizing stopped as Yellow transmitted to me once again. I was quite suddenly accosted with a memory with  _ feeling.  _ It was Yellow’s, of when Hunk first took to the controls.  He was worried for Lance. Worried that he’d never make it back to Earth. Excited and nervous about Allura and Coran, about saving the universe. How were Shiro, Pidge, and Keith doing?  All of that fell away as he took the controls, let Yellow nudge him. The wild  _ freedom  _ of his instincts, of trusting his feelings, was breathtaking, even as my sadness bloomed. I would most likely never feel that way.

//>I AM UNABLE. I CANNOT USE FEELINGS TO MAKE DECISIONS// I transmitted to Yellow, apologetic and awed and saddened all at once. The paladins all had an emotion based bond with their lions. Their shared instincts is what allowed them to form Voltron.

The reply that came back was determined, and meant one thing.  _ Combine. Interface. _

I could fit into almost any interface...but Yellow? I was not sure. However, she was insistent, so I pulled out of the Castle completely and formatted my other ‘half’ into Yellow. It was an odd amalgam of pain from injuries, worry for her paladin, acceptance and gratefulness of my ability to help Hunk when she could not. Determination. _Power._ I displayed the coordinates and Yellow crouched down tighter before dropping the particle barrier and taking to the air.

“Sam? Sam, what is happening? Why did you leave the ship?” Allura was asking.

“Did you let Hunk fly in his condition?!” Pidge sounded scandalized. “What are you doing?!”

“That’s not Hunk flying. It’s too careful.” Keith, sounding focused and confused.

“Keith’s right. Hunk never flies that slow _ ,  _ even when he’s puking. Sam?” Lance agreed. “Sam, are you flying Yellow?

I  _ was  _ Yellow and I wasn’t. She accepted me in that moment as a ‘paladin’ but also as a  _ part  _ of her. Experiencing feedback, feelings, and  _ sensory input  _ all from Yellow was as breathtaking as it was stunning. I could stay in her interface forever.

“Nicely done, Sam!” Coran said as Yellow and I slowed to dock. “Retreat, paladins!”

“Sam, now that you’ve finished that, can you create a wormhole? I am in the infirmary to prep a regeneration pod for Hunk.” Allura said hastily.

“I can do it, Princess.” Coran answered when I did not, still in a loop with Yellow.

I was aware, on some level, that the others docked and the ship jumped to safe space. It took effort to conclude that Yellow and I were separate beings. Interfacing with the Castle, which had no sentience, was much different than sharing life with another organism. As detached and logical as I was, Yellow and I still worked together with 85% harmony. //>I SHOULD SEE TO HUNK// I managed to pass along, but Yellow hung on to deliver a message.

_ Without you he would be lost.  _ I received a jumble of memories of her last paladin, of her fondness for Hunk, and now her fondness for me.  _ Emotions may not guide you, but that does not mean that you are incapable. Your compassion and wish to help are a relief to me. Thank you. _

“Sam?” A small hand on my back. After a moment, I managed to leave Yellow’s interface. The ship went on emergency power as I reformatted to the Castle, and it took almost twice as long as it normally did. I was standing at the controls, hands pressed firm to the console, ramrod stiff as ship sensors came back online. My CPU was practically _wheezing._ Pidge was at my side, a hand on my back. She was sporting a bruise blooming on her jaw, but appeared to be otherwise unscathed. Keith had joined her.

Hunk was already in a regeneration pod; my sensors, now interfaced back to the castle, reporting that he would be in the pod for five and a half hours to repair his leg. The knowledge that he would be alright brought immense relief. “I…” I suddenly couldn’t form words. Digitizing, when I had communicated in such a radically different way with Yellow, suddenly seemed impossible. My grip on the console tightened as Yellow gave the equivalent of an affectionate nudge over the lingering shared data files.

“Oh my  _ quiznak.”  _ Pidge caught on, eyes widening. “Did--did you-- Yellow let you? You went into her interface?!” Pidge spluttered, incredulously.

“ _ What?”  _ Keith echoed, gaze snapping from Pidge to me.

“Affirmative.” I said faintly.

“Um. Wow.” Pidge grinned. “I bet that was one heck of a ride, huh?”

“I am...it is difficult to equilibrate to...the ship’s interface.” My digitizing was slow and the closest to the human definition of ‘slurring’ it would most likely ever get. Even in such a weakened state the utter  _ power  _ and  _ compassion  _ of Yellow had clogged me.

“I bet. Easy does it.” Pidge helped to pry my hands off of the console. “Yellow did a good job trusting you.”

_ This one is different. An ally. Worthy. I learned much interfacing with something so unique.  _ Yellow said proudly through our connection, as if Keith and Pidge could hear her. For all I knew, perhaps they could. 

“--might as well.” Pidge was saying, and then my feet were lifted out from underneath me. “Sam, you’re on, like, five percent power. Keith’s got ya. Try and relax, okay?” Pidge was saying as I got further away from Yellow. I came out of stasis in the lounge. Someone had brought a charging cable and plugged my mobile platform in while lying it out on the couch. They had also replaced coolant and battery fluids. My head was supported by someone’s lap, and my legs were also resting on someone’s lap. “Look. Gibberish.” Pidge was saying quietly, the muted beeps of a datapad in use hovering nearby. “But it’s _not._ It definitely meant something to Yellow and Sam. It’s incredible.”

“The workings of the lions have been a mystery for eons.” Coran sounded slightly envious down by my legs. “What an amazing experience!”

I had been in stasis for about three hours, but it had helped. Interfacing with Yellow was just a database now. I could focus on the ship and my platform, although the memories of _her_ memories, of such strong _feelings,_ chafed against my logical programming. The filter program had almost threatened to shut down my existence because of it, but I hadn’t even felt the warnings when interfaced to Yellow. Stasis had been necessary to avoid shut down. “I have regained functionality. Greetings, Coran, Pidge.” I digitized, opening my eye sensors, and they both jumped. “It appears as if Hunk has been in a regeneration pod for three hours and seventeen minutes. The log indicates that he will need to remain inside for another hour and forty three minutes. Query: did his injuries give any further cause for alarm?”

“Nope. He was just in shock. You stopped the bleeding. It was just the pain and the cold that had him in a bad way.” Pidge said. “Are you okay?”

“Affirmative. I am operating at 92% efficiency.” I answered, relieved that Hunk would be alright. “The interface with Yellow was unexpected and very disorienting and educational. I apologize if my need for stasis caused alarm.”

“Once we figured out what happened we weren’t all that surprised you needed to take five.” Pidge said reassuringly. “What was it like, interfacing with a lion of Voltron?”

“Disorienting. Powerful.” I frowned a little. “I briefly became part of an organism that had memories of making decisions based on emotions. My programming still struggles to accept memories of that encounter.”

“Oh.  _ Oh.”  _ Coran patted my leg. “Do you need help?”

“Negative. Thank you for offering aid, Coran. The data recovered from the event is too valuable to be deleted. I will adjust.” I reassured him.

“Can I ask you something? Did you like or dislike those memories?” Pidge asked in a rush. “You don’t have to answer.” She added hastily.

“Logically, seeing events from that point of view has led to greater understanding of organics.” I began. “I...feeling in such an intense manner was new. Different. Terrifying and yet…” I frowned deeper. “It requires further processing.”

“Thanks for telling me that much.” Pidge said gratefully. I sat up and between them, investigating the spare jumpsuit of Coran’s my platform had been ‘dressed’ in.

“Query: do you require assistance repairing Yellow?”

“Eventually. I don’t want to start without Hunk, you know? He’ll do a better job anyway.” Pidge said. She then pointed at me and growled, “Do  _ not  _ tell him I said that.”


	15. What's A Race?

“Query: Keith, may I pose a query?”

A noncommittal grunt. Keith had been assigned to cleaning the hangars. I had joined him in order to reach areas that were not safe for organics, as Shiro had paired with Lance and had assigned Pidge and Hunk to clean together. He had discovered that divvying the work in such a manner yielded the best results, and so Keith and I almost always cleaned together. As usual, I had heeded his usual preference for quiet. However, I had a query that I’d been calculating over and over for quite a long time.

“On the day Lance instructed me on what a ‘selfie’ is, he made a reference that I have concluded to have been offensive to you. He referred to this gesture,” I demonstrated the dual ‘peace’ symbols at each cheek, “as ‘doki-doki kawaii stuff’. Query: was this culturally or personally offensive? Or was it both?”

“Sam…” Keith sighed, rubbing his forehead and unknowingly spreading a dark splotch of dirt across it. “Both, I guess. It was a racial stereotype and Lance is an idiot.”

“Query: what is a ‘racial stereotype’?”

“Agh. It’s-- a stereotype is, I dunno, a broad generalization that isn’t always true or is intentionally malicious. Like saying all geth are mindless just because they’re geth.”

“Hmm. Processing.”

“It was a race thing because everyone thinks Asians are like that.” Keith moodily scrubbed at an oil stain.

“Query: what is an ‘Asian’?”

“It’s a race, Sam.”

“Query: what is a race? Aside from the act of traveling a set distance with the hopes of traveling the distance before a competitor.”

“I--oh.” Keith’s irritation vanished. He stopped scrubbing and blinked at me. “You have no idea.”

“Correct. I have never heard the term ‘race’ in this context before. Query: is it similar to ‘species’?”

“I almost don’t want to say.” Keith frowned.

“It’d be a blessing to all life  _ everywhere  _ if you never said anything ever again.” Lance sang as he waltzed in.

“What are you doing here?” Keith bit out in reply, scowling.

“Uh, this is  _ Blue’s  _ hangar.” Lance pointed out. “You’re usually not this dumb. So what’s up? You huffing paint or something?”

“Keith has attempted to define what a ‘racial stereotype’ is. However, I have no data on what a ‘race’ is in that context.” I summarized. “Query: Keith, is this topic upsetting to you? If so I will desist this query immediately.”

“Um. What?” Lance spluttered. Keith sighed, but explained our previous conversation.

“It would almost be wrong to explain it. It’s a good thing that you don’t know.” Keith frowned at me.

“Aw, come on, Keith! It’s not like Sam is going to be racist if you explain it.” Lance said good-naturedly. “Besides, you’re Asian, I’m Cuban, Hunk is Hawaiian, Shiro is Asian, and Coran and Allura are aliens. The only white person here is Pidge.”

“Sam, a ‘race’ refers to humans from a certain spot on Earth. Shiro and I are lumped as ‘Asian’ even though he’s Japanese and I’m Korean.” Keith began.

“Query: race is used to geographically identify?”

“Wow. This is harder than I thought.” Lance said as Keith just shook his head, rubbing more dark dirt on his forehead accidentally. “Okay, so some people on Earth, certain races, think that their race is better than others. That leads to oppression of the other races. Like, people treat us different because we aren’t white.” 

“Different as in, more likely to commit a crime or more likely to be violent. Bad stuff.” Keith added when he saw that I was ready to pose a query.

“Like, a lot of white people got mad when immigrants of different races came to the US.” Lance was on a roll. “They made it so that people of color, or non whites, had a harder time going to school, getting a job, getting a loan...you know. Living.” Lance shrugged.

“Query: ‘racism’ is an aggression based on territorial disputes?” I asked, trying to understand.

“I...no. It’s hard to explain.” Keith sounded amused, if not a little sad. “It’s good that you don’t get it. Like when Pidge tried to get you to lie.”

“Oh!  _ Pidge!  _ Guys, come on!” Lance snatched Keith’s hand and my own, tugging us off. Keith complained the whole way there, and rubbed his hand when Lance finally let go. “Pidge! Be racist to me!” Lance said brightly, interrupting Pidge, Allura, and Shiro.

“Uh,  _ what?!”  _ Hunk called from across the room.

“Why?” Pidge looked repulsed.

“Keith is teaching Sam what racism is!”

“Keith,” Shiro sighed, disappointed.

“I--I’m not-Sam  _ asked,  _ okay!” Keith spluttered. “And they only asked because  _ you  _ were culturally insensitive!”

“Me?! What did I do?” Lance demanded, offended.

“Uh. Remember? ‘Doki-doki kawaii stuff’?” Keith snapped, flashing the peace symbols and glaring.

“I--oh. Wow, Sam, you picked up on that?” Lance blinked at me.

“Affirmative. I logged Keith’s irritation as different from any he expresses in an average conversation with you, Lance.”

“ _ Roasted.”  _ Pidge cackled as Lance pouted. “Okay, you want to see racism? As resident white person, I guess it’s my duty.”

“ _ Pidge, _ ” Shiro groaned, looking mortified and disappointed.

“Query: what is a ‘white’ person?” I asked, confused.

“I--later. Observe.” Pidge cleared her throat and then gave Keith a hard shove that did almost nothing to unsteady him. Keith barely took a step back to absorb it. “Hey, uh,  _ Asian!  _ Pass a math test recently?”

“Pidge, you stink at being racist.” Lance whined.

“ _ Wow,  _ thanks,” Pidge said sarcastically.

“Sam, being a racist is morally wrong. It involves devaluing a person based on who they are.” Shiro frowned. “It’s not something  _ anyone  _ should be good at.”

“I will add ‘racism’ to my log of topics you do not wish to discuss.” I said after a moment. It confused me that humans created classifications with no functional purpose, but I respected the paladins’ wishes not to discuss it any further.

“What all is on that list again?” Hunk asked, rubbing his head.

“Nudity. Sexual reproduction. Swearing. Attraction. Harry Potter O-T-Ps. Religion. Use of cannabis.” I rattled off. “I have now added ‘Racism’ to the list.”

“Oh. Uh, good.” Hunk said, blushing.

“Just wait until we add politics to that list,” Pidge muttered under her breath.

“Pidge,  _ no.”  _ Shiro said firmly as Allura’s eyes lit up.

“DRARRY FOREVER!” Lance yelled, running away when Hunk gave chase, yelling something about ‘Hinny’.

“Query: may I pose an additional query about racism?” I asked, watching Hunk grab Lance and chuck him into a mountain of laundry.

“Just one more.” Pidge said, seeing as Shiro sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“This platform is capable of changing eye color, external plate color, and hair texture, color, and length depending on it’s geographic location on Earth. The programming directive regarding appearance calls for this platform to change to most closely resemble the humans around it.” I explained. “If your previous concern about racism relates to humans, who cannot change their biological attributes, being treated unfairly due to ‘who they are’, is it racist for my platform to utilize and change its appearance?”

“Oh quiznak.” Pidge managed after a few seconds, processing my long query carefully. “I am  _ not  _ cut out for this.”

“I...don’t know.” Shiro also looked stunned and confused. “Is it appropriation if it’s built into who Sam is? I mean, they’ll benefit from a certain appearance on Earth, but they’re alien…”

“Sam, you can’t be racist, okay? Trust me on this.” Hunk was back, patting my shoulder.

“Query: if, for some reason, I exhibit racist or morally unfit behavior, will you correct my actions? It is against my programming to harm organics.” I was worried. “Despite not knowing or understanding this ‘racism’, I could still harm organics because of it.”

“If you did, we would. But think of it this way: racism isn’t logical. You’d never elect to do something racist because that’s just who you are.” Shiro said comfortingly.

“Try not to worry about it.” Keith supplied.

“Thank you. I appreciate your guidance and support. I will now refrain from discussing ‘racism’ with you again per your request.” I said, offering them a small smile.

“ _ Drarry is the best!”  _ Lance pounced on Hunk’s back and then let out a shriek as the larger paladin easily grabbed him and threw him back into the laundry pile. Amusement code spooled out inside of my CPU as Hunk then took a flying leap into the pile, scattering socks and tunics everywhere.

[][][][][][][]

“Hey, Sam?”

“Query: yes, Hunk?” I answered. The paladins had just recently suffered a devastating defeat. Their sadness clung to the air, lingered in their faces. They had dog-piled to support one another, but it wasn’t working.

I was monitoring Pidge’s vitals. The regeneration pods were down, and I could only make remote repairs so fast. In the meantime, I could at least keep her safe and comfortable. She’d been slashed down the shoulder and across her right bicep by a Galra lieutenant and was unconscious. The other paladins had superficial to minor wounds.

“Can you cry?” Hunk’s voice wavered a little.

“I do not have the biology.” I answered. “When sadness or grief is generated, no secondary response is triggered.”

“Oh.” Hunk sounded even more gloomy. “Can you laugh?”

“Hmm. Processing.”

“For real?” Lance picked his head up from where he’d rested it on Keith’s arm.

“Laughter cannot be classified as a biological response as crying is. Crying evolved from other behaviors and usually is triggered by a complex hormonal response to emotions.” I reported. “Therefore, I suppose laughter is a human trait I am capable of adapting to this platform.”

“But true laughter just...happens.” Keith muttered. “You can’t program it. It  _ is  _ based on emotions.”

“You just need to hear something funny!” Hunk ignored Keith and pulled a little closer to Shiro. “Anyone know any good jokes?”

“Pidge knows a ton. Most are puns.” Lance sighed, eyes flicking to her unconscious form, worried for her.

“Oh! A classic. Sam, why did the chicken cross the road?” Hunk asked.

“I require additional clarification to answer your query. Query: what is a ‘chicken’?” I asked, not understanding.

“Ugh.” Lance groaned.

“Sam, you’ve said that you generate emotion code spontaneously.” Shiro spoke up, sounding tired. “So have you generated amusement?”

“Affirmative.”

Lance gasped, leaning forward. “When, when?! Details!”

“According to my most recent log, I generated amusement code when you became trapped in a waste receptacle, Lance.” He had dropped a cap to a ‘face cream’ down the ‘toilet’ and had reached his arm in hoping to find it. Instead, he’d trapped his arm. I had secretly aided his escape.

“ _ I told you that in confidence!”  _ Lance yelped, flushing bright red.

“I...don’t want to know,” Keith managed a faint smirk, even with Pidge so seriously injured.

“Okay, so we have to humiliate Lance. Seems easy enough.” Hunk teased.

“Amusement was also generated when Lance and Hunk settled their disagreement over fictitious relationships in the pile of laundry.” I supplied. Even Shiro managed a chuckle as Hunk burst into laughter, Lance joining in.

“Ha! Oh man,” Lance wiped away tears of mirth. “Good times. But Drarry is still superi-mmph!” Shiro slapped a hand over his mouth and pointed warningly at Hunk, who was glaring at Lance.

“No.” Shiro reprimanded firmly. Something about the way Lance and Hunk wilted, with Keith rolling his eyes in the background, was amusing.

The light, tinkling pixels that came out was the closest possible digitization to a human laugh. It was recognizable as an amused sound, but it wasn’t a true laugh. Regardless, every paladin’s eyes widened at me and Lance gestured wildly until Shiro released him.

“ _ Sam!  _ You laughed!! That was so awesome!” Lance spluttered, beaming.

“It is the closest possible digitization function to tha-!” Hunk hugged the platform so tight and so suddenly that it surprised me into halting digitization. I patted his back lightly, smiling into his shoulder.

“Very nice, Sam.” Shiro said warmly as Hunk let go.

“I appreciate that you find it so. The regeneration pod will be online in 56 seconds.” I answered, still smiling. “Pidge will need an estimated two and a half hours in the pod.”

“Best news I’ve heard today,” Keith said, carefully lifting Pidge. He felt personally responsible, as he’d responded ‘too late’ to Pidge’s request for backup.

Once Pidge was safely in a pod and healing steadily, the paladins, moods lifted just slightly, hit the showers.


	16. Simplest Dwarli

“There! Vacuum tight!” Hunk turned one more knob, and the dessicating chamber he and Pidge had hastily constructed for my mobile platform was complete.

The trouble had begun a little less than an hour after we had landed on a very humid planet. My mobile platform, incompatible with water, had started rusting at an alarming rate and almost shorted out as Lance helped me make it to the dessicator.

“The castle’s air systems are working at an increased rate to keep the level of water in the air to a tolerable level.” I examined the crumbling rust on the arm of the mobile platform. “Thank you for constructing this chamber so quickly, Hunk, Pidge.”

“Once we get off this planet we’ll fix you, good as new!” Hunk promised.

“It’s not fair that you can’t handle water,” Lance pouted, draping dramatically against the side. “How else are you going to come to the beach with me?”

“I am sorry, Lance.” I truly was. “Geth are fundamentally incompatible with dihydrogen monoxide. I cannot go to the beach with you, although I--I would like it.”

Sensors froze as I forced my programming to release non-pertinent information to my existence.

“You--!” Lance’s eyes widened in wonder, pressing harder against the chamber. “Did you guys--?!” His head snapped up to look at Pidge and Hunk.

“Yeah. I heard it.” Pidge was beaming. “Did it...hurt? Are you good?”

“It waaaaaassss,” my CPU dragged, glitching the word.

“Uh oh. Sam, stop.” Hunk said nervously. My past glitches had needed direct intervention, something the paladins would struggle to do with the need for the dry chamber.

“-sssssss,” My drawn out digitization finally ended when I briefly severed digitization functionality, resulting in a sharp stop to the tone and then an odd pixelated lump making it through.

“Sorry.” Pidge said nervously, shifting from foot to foot. “Sam?”

“I am operating at 44% efficiency.” I answered her unasked query after a moment, CPU settling down. The combined effects of expressing wants and water damages had taken a toll, and yet...I wanted to try again. Even if it served no  _ logical  _ functional purpose, I had plenty of data that showed that expressing one's wants did have some purpose in the universe.

“Hey, guys, how are things down here?” Shiro stuck his head in. “We’ve got to head out soon.”

“Someone has to stay with Sam.” Pidge declared. “Efficiency is below 50%.”

“Are you alright?” Shiro asked, concerned. “Is the chamber not working?”

“No, it’s working. Sam told us something they would  _ want  _ to do.” Pidge stressed the word, and Shiro blinked.

“I thought you couldn’t. That you needed to make a program for it.” Shiro seemed very hopeful despite his expressed doubts. “Nevermind!” He added hastily when I vented loudly in an attempt to ward off another glitch.

“Not to worry!” Coran strode in, plopping down against the side of the chamber with a wide grin. “I can just as easily maintain ship functions here as I can on the bridge.”

“Okay. Alert us if you need help.” Shiro said cautiously. He lingered for a moment, curious about my apparent expression of want.

“Feel better, Sam!” Hunk wished, patting the side of the chamber as if it was the platform. He left with Shiro, talking animatedly about trying to make water repellant for me.

“Keith is going to be so mad he missed this!” Pidge was skipping to the door.

“Yeah, well, you missed the laugh.” Lance pointed out.

“Don’t remind me!” Pidge groaned, and then she was gone, waving briefly before hopping onto Lance’s back as he turned the corner.

Not a moment later, Allura came in. She’d dressed for action, but was letting down her hair. “Coran, you haven’t been off-ship in almost two months. Go with the paladins.” She said gently. “I will stay with Sam.”

“If you’re sure.” Coran said. He wished me well and then jogged out to join the paladins.

“Greetings, Allura.” I said quietly from my spot on the floor of the chamber.

“Hello, Sam.” She said, settling down outside the chamber. The mice curled up in the crook of her arm, squeaking. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Negative. Internal adjustments and diagnostics will restore efficiency.” I relayed. “Thank you for offering aid, Allura.”

“Of course.” She said warmly. “We haven’t had a chance to talk one on one in a very long time.”

I ended up running internal adjustments as Allura told me stories of Altea, of Altean culture, of her father. Efficiency gradually improved as she told me story after story. I added information to my Altean database wildly, and with rapt attention. My main focus for data gathering had usually been the paladins, simply because the sample size was higher and the fall of Altea and their race was a hard topic for Allura and Coran to speak of.

“Thank you for telling me this, Allura. My statistical analyses conclude that speaking of Altea is difficult for you. I appreciate your effort.” I told her as Allura settled into silence after telling me about her last memories from Altea- the planet burning.

“Some things, no matter how painful, are meant to be shared.” Allura offered me a sad smile.

“It is against my programming to cause pain in organics. If it does not cause you pain, I would--l-i--ke--,” I had been 80% confident that my internal adjustments had solved the programming conflict with sharing my wants. I was proven wrong as something shorted out, which led to more components shorting out. Hydraulics pressure spiked, making me jerk and twitch a few times.

“I understand. Sam, please, stop!” Allura said hastily. “Hurting yourself won’t do any good. If you want to tell us...I understand, I do, but we don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Acknowledged.” I digitized faintly. “Internal damages reported. I must perform diagnostics.” For some reason, just briefly, I ran statistics on what touching water must feel like to the paladins. What showering must be like. The  _ feel  _ of water.

Allura’s voice brought me out of calculation. “I understand, Sam. Get some rest.” She said gently. The dessicating trap opened, just briefly, and then the mice were there, curling up with me.

I needed to run diagnostics for almost four hours to repair the damages I’d self inflicted. By the time I came out of stasis, it was to realize that I was no longer in the dessicator. I was in Hunk’s workshop, and he, Coran, and Pidge were fixing my rusted skin.

“Hey, Sam!” Coran said brightly. “Doing better?”

“Affirmative. I am at 89% efficiency.” I relayed. “Query: what is that?” I was watching Hunk use some sort of spray on the platform’s arm.

“It’s a repellant! It uses hydrophobic interactions to form a barrier against water. It shouldn’t interfere with any of your external plate functions.” Hunk said eagerly, applying a liberal coating. “Hopefully, this will give you some more protection.”

“Thank you,” I digitized quietly.

“You okay? You were in stasis for a while.” Pidge said worriedly.

“I am...it is similar to the strain generated when you were all ill.” I explained, closing my eye sensors. “I tested a hypothesis without properly vetting it first, causing damages and putting significant strain on other vital functions.”

“You tried really hard.” Pidge said quietly. “We all think you’re really brave, Sam, but there’s a difference between courage and stubbornness. Don’t hurt yourself for us, okay?”

“‘Cause that would be...bad. Really bad.” Hunk said nervously, worriedly. “We’d never be okay with you doing that.”

“Acknowledged.” I digitized finally. “I will desist.”

[][][][][][][][]

“I have discovered that today, as of three minutes and four seconds ago, is the holiday called ‘Christmas’ on Earth.” I addressed the team at the dinner table, setting down my mix of silane and various fluids. “I have also discovered that tomorrow would be the Altean holiday called ‘Dwarli’, which is nearly identical.”

“Ah, Dwarli!” Coran said nostalgically. “Best celebration of them all!”

“It is fact that not every Altean or human celebrates these holidays. Regardless, it would be beneficial to my understanding of Altean and human customs to observe them in a strictly non-diety related way. My analyses conclude that both holidays celebrate family, friends, and giving.”

“Aww,” Lance said, tearing up a little. “Sam, that’s so sweet!”

“Oh! I’ve been saving this!” Hunk scrambled up and disappeared, only to come back from the kitchen with two items. The first was a platter with an odd, pink goo on it. The second was a bottle of high-performance battery fluid.

“Uh, why is it pink?” Pidge asked nervously.

“Shush. For you, Sam!” Hunk gave me the bottle.

“This will decrease the rate of battery discharge by 3.8%. Thank you, Hunk.” I accepted the gift with a bloom of affection. It had taken the paladins a while to realize that non-functional gifts meant nothing to geth. Wants had no bearing; to care for another’s functional needs was equivalent to their gift giving.

“And for everyone else...tadah!” Hunk set down the platter.

“You haven’t gone wrong ye-,” Keith shrugged, taking a spoonful when no one moved to taste the intensely colored goo. Keith froze at the taste, eyes widening. “It...it tastes like chocolate,” he managed finally, and the paladins dug in, laughing and reminiscing.

Gifts were shared further after dinner. Pidge gave me programming that could reapply the water repellant for me based on oxidation rate and percent humidity. Lance gave me, with Coran and Allura’s help, updated star maps. Keith and Shiro, with Pidge’s help, presented me with wireless charging capabilities.

By the time the paladins were done hugging and exchanging gifts, they dog piled in the den. They all appeared happy and calm, but I could sense their thoughts switching to unhappier things: those long gone or left behind.

It was time for my gifts.

I wormed out of the pile, ignoring Lance’s whine of protest, and stood in front of the dog pile. “I have functional gifts for you.” I announced. “I understand that you would most likely enjoy a non-functional gift more, but my programming does not allow it. Therefore, I have arranged substitutes.”

“Oh boy,” Lance joked, and Keith elbowed him.

“This database is now available in the holodeck. Reviewing one’s history is important for personal growth.” I brought up a visual menu and selected the ‘immersion’ prompt.

My display sensors were inferior to those on the holodeck, but in milliseconds the visuals displayed all around, filling the den. A field of klorinth flowers emerged. I swiped with my hand, and a uttrī biosphere appeared, boiling rocks raining down in a light drizzle.

“Geth prothean timelines are stored that are specified to other species. Artifacts, cultural norms, environments, and historically significant figures and dates are stored for future learners.” I brought up the artifact menu, panning through toys and technology and foods until Allura hugged me so tightly the platform creaked, Coran joining in.

“ _ Thank you,”  _ Allura said tearfully into my shoulder.

“I believe the correct term is ‘Simplest Dwarli’.” I replied, and felt a pang of grief when Allura shuddered with a silent sob. “It was not my intention to cause grief or pain.” I managed, guilt and anxiety coding ramping up. I was damaging an organic!

“No,” Allura said softly, setting the platform back down. “These tears are happy.” She pressed a kiss to the forehead of the platform. “ _ Thank you.” _

“It pleases me to give you additional functionality and happiness.” I answered, and Coran beamed at me. He and Allura hugged once more before settling back down in the dog pile.

“Okay, Santa. I’m ready,” Lance said eagerly, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Sam?” Shiro asked as I rapidly processed ‘Santa’, head cocking to the side. I had limited files on the fictional holiday figure.

“Hmm. Processing. This platform is built to be the average weight compared to it’s height. However, I can make other adjustments.” External plates became red, my ‘hair white, short, and curled. A ‘beard’ formed, also white. Eye sensors turned blue.

“Must be a folklore character,” Coran shrugged at an equally baffled Allura as Keith, Hunk, Pidge and Lance burst into laughter. Shiro tried and failed to hold his in.

“That beard is  _ awesome!”  _ Hunk laughed, wiping away tears of mirth. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

“This platform seeks to appear as the average human in any given area on Earth. There are many geographical areas where facial hair is common.” I reminded him, managing a few seconds of laughter.

“Thanks, Sam, but you look ridiculous. You don’t have to stay like that.” Shiro chuckled.

“Very well.” Red and blue faded to grey. The beard disappeared and the hair returned to the default, dark grey and long. “My gift...it is also not intended to cause grief or sorrow. I apologize if it does.” I began seriously. “I also apologize for any infringement on your privacy.”

“Uh. Okay? What is it?” Pidge asked curiously.

“I will provide an example that is specific to you first, Pidge, but this gift is applicable to each of you. It requires all of my processing power; once I begin, I cannot stop. Query: Coran, can you monitor the ship until I am finished?”

“On it!” Coran fetched his datapad to keep the castle’s functions running smoothly, offering a thumb’s up when ready.

“Uh, wha-?” Pidge’s nervous question died in her throat as I closed my eye sensors. Forming a connection required all CPU. Normal processing set aside for platform rigidity, sensor processing, and other functions was rerouted, making the platform stiffen sharply.

The dialing and then ringer noise played as I called the Holt residence on Earth using my scanners to form a long, one-way comm channel. We were the maximum distance away I could manage: 10,000 light years. I had navigated the ship there during the daily ‘jump’ to avoid Galra detection, and no one had noticed.

_ “Holt residence, this is Diane.” _

“MOM?” Pidge gasped sharply.

“... _ Katie?!” _

“Oh my god,  _ Mom!”  _ Pidge was crying. “I--I’m sorry I ran away and that it’s been so long; I--I didn’t want to hurt you! I’m so sorry!”

_ “Katie, I--where are you? Are you safe?”  _ Diane Holt also sounded weepy.

“Yeah. M’fine. I’m in deep space to find Dad and Matt.” Pidge let out a choked sob. “It’s so good to hear your voice!”

_ “Katie, what? Deep space?”  _ Diane asked worriedly.  _ “Honey, that’s not possible. I know you miss Dad and Matt, but-,”  _ An audible sniff,  _ “-you need to come home.” _

“I can prove that I’m in space and not on Earth.” Pidge sounded determined. “Shiro?”

“Mrs. Holt, I--I hold myself personally responsible for Kerberos. I  _ will  _ return Matt, Sam, and Katie to you. I promise.” Shiro sounded grief-stricken but fierce.

Silence.  _ “I-- _ _ Takashi _ _? What--how-?” _

“We’re in deep space, Mom. I found him and I’ll find Dad and Matt too.” Pidge promised. “I--it’s hard to explain the how and why. But I’m fighting to get them back.”

Their conversation lasted another hour. Pidge explained Voltron and the Galra, and her and her mother cried several times, especially when they said goodbye. Diane had barely hung up, terminating the connection, when Pidge hugged me tight and then let go with a pained yelp as she touched overheated plates.

I vented hard, hydraulics briefly failing in the legs as I redistributed over-ramped CPU. Kneeling was a stable alternative to standing. I had calculated that coolant levels would be adequate for ‘calling’ Earth, but hadn’t factored in CPU to process my cooling systems. It would be an easy fix: I would have to call from storage, hooked up to a externally powered charger and coolant pump.

“Whoo!” Hunk hastily fetched a new bag of coolant and managed to hook it up without burning himself. “Sam, you okay?”

“I failed to recognize that rerouting CPU would remove cooling functionality,” I digitized faintly, venting again. After a moment, I added, “Merry Christmas.”

_ “Sam,”  _ Pidge started laughing tearfully, and a covered hand touched my shoulder, and then Pidge carefully hugged me, tucking her arms further into her sleeves to avoid burning herself.

“You can  _ call  _ Earth?!” Keith let out finally, incredulous and impressed. “ _ How?!” _

“My scanners can be combined into one, one-way, long range communication feed. Solar flares and weather patterns on Earth may disrupt signal strength.” I explained, core temperatures returning to a safer range. I held Pidge’s back with one arm and hugged Shiro with the other as he wordlessly embraced both Pidge and I.

“You can call anywhere? Any country?” Lance asked excitedly.

“Correct. I discovered the ‘home phone number’ for the Holt domicile when Pidge linked my external backup to her personal computer to restore functions after viral deletion.” I explained. “If provided with a number, I can form a communication line.”

“Can you process cooling functions and the call at the same time? Because risking an overheat isn’t a good idea.” Hunk sounded hopeful that I could, and was waiting with baited breath as Shiro let go of Pidge and I. Shiro did, however, keep a hand on my back.

I had not calculated that contacting the Holt residence would be beneficial for Shiro as well. Regardless, it made me happy to have given both him and Pidge that chance to bury old regrets.

“Negative. However, I will simply call from mobile platform storage. A coolant pump can be attached to run the function while I cannot. The calling function will be less flexible and private, but I will continue to be able to place calls. I must maintain a maximum distance of 10,000 lightyears from Earth, however, to maintain the connection.”

“We’ll have to use it sparingly,” Shiro said, sounding a little disappointed. “We can’t risk drawing the Galra to Earth.”

“Still. You are the best!” Hunk cheered, lifting me into a hug. “I can’t  _ wait  _ to call my parents!”

“Yeah!” Lance chimed in, grinning. “I haven’t been able to call home to Cuba in, like,  _ months.  _ And that was when I was at the Garrison! Now it’s been, like,  _ years! _ ”

He and Hunk broke into excited chatter while Shiro and Pidge starting speaking to Coran and Allura about the holodeck. That left Keith, who seemed to hesitate before asking, “Can you look up numbers?”

“Hmm. Processing.” The hesitance in his tone and his movements were masking emotional pain, I concluded. Everyone so far had discussed their families, but Keith had not. Respecting his privacy, I hadn’t posed any queries into the topic. “Your query depends on additional information. I am capable of tapping phone number databases on Earth, but only at certain times and distances. Greater information will help to narrow down the database that most likely contains the number you are looking for.”

“It would be in South Korea. Around Seoul.” Keith looked even more uncomfortable. “I--nevermind. The last name is so common anyway--,”

“Pardon me for interrupting, but I can see that this is both difficult and important to you. I will allocate proper resources to find the number you are looking for. Simply tell me when you would like me to do so, Keith, and I will.” I left the timeline up to Keith. Doing things at his own pace always seemed to help him.

“I--thanks, Sam.” Keith looked and sounded relieved. “Uh, Merry Christmas?”

“The geth have no concept of holidays. The only day of ‘observance’ we recognize is that of Geth Independence. Regardless, it pleases me to share your holiday with you.” I informed him, and Keith smiled.


	17. SPC-111

“Stop immediately!” I warned, and the paladins froze around me accordingly.

I had joined them on a visit to the gigantic gas planet of ×Wľćć to aid in communication support. The normal helmet comm feeds were too weak to stand up to the wild conditions on the planet. Pidge could barely stay on her feet from the harsh winds. My presence strengthened comm feeds with the orbiting ship so that the conditions of the planet didn't completely bar communication with the paladins.  There was no visibility for human eyes and digital scanners were almost useless in the howling gases. Geth scanners, however, were slightly less affected. My scanners had picked up an analog source similar to mine not too far away. “There is an analog scanner broadcasting near to us. I am trying to identify the source.” I relayed as the team hastily grouped into a protective circle. 

 //>IN: SPC-111

>GREETINGS. I MEAN YOU NO HARM//

The geth transmission was unexpected. It did, however, help to pinpoint the other geth. Their title, SPC, however, instantly made me cautious. Spectres were rare, and for good reason. All were given free will programming and little to know restrictions or regulations to work by. They were the ‘necessary evil’ of geth existence. They were allowed to be as ruthless as needed to ensure geth survival. By limiting the free will programming to mostly spectres, the majority of the geth population was free to make unbiased decisions that steered our people as a whole safely and efficiently. However, considering my last interaction with spectres, I needed to be cautious, especially with the paladins there. 

“The transmission is from a spectre. They mean us no harm.” I informed the group. “However, I have doubts.”

“Spectres?” Hunk echoed nervously. “Weren’t they the-,”

"Yes,” Shiro answered his question sharply. “Sam? Do we need to retreat?” I could feel his eyes on me, worried and on edge, but he was waiting for my input. 

“I will gather more information. Please remain on your guard.” I settled for a cautious approach.

//>IN: 5-9M

>GREETINGS, SPC-111

>QUERY: PURPOSE ON ×WĽĆĆ?

>QUERY: PURPOSE OF CONTACT?//

 

 //>YOUR CAUTION IS WISE, 5-9M. I AM ASSIGNED TO MONITOR THIS SPACE FOR 7.0 ADVANCEMENT//

“This Spectre has been assigned here based on probability and intelligence reports that 7.0 may try to take this area.” I digitized, analyzing their digitization signatures for more information. There was surprisingly few data points available. This geth was capable of deleting signatures so that no additional information was disclosed. Normally, geth included small signatures on digitization that provided traceability to the facts they used to make that decision. It made following a conversation extremely easy. This geth did nothing of the sort. 

“What do they want?” Shiro asked, the query SPC-111 hadn’t answered.

“Unclear. I will pose the query again.” I frowned.

//>YOU HAVE BEEN STUDYING THESE ORGANICS FOR A LONG TIME// SPC-111 digitized before I could. //>YOU HAVE ANALYZED THEIR DECISION MAKING PROCESSES//

 

//>AFFIRMATIVE// I relayed cautiously. 

 

//>YOU HAVE RAN STATISTICAL ANALYSES ON REMOVING FILTER PROGRAMMING//

A spike of alarm shot through me. This spectre clearly had clearance beyond the level of other spectres I had met previously. SPC-111 could access my CPU logs without my knowledge. My immediate concern was for the paladins. SPC-111 had not connected with the geosome for many months. They had received a transmission of the geosome meeting regarding the 7.0, but not the new alliance. At least, not that I could tell. A normal, non-self modifying geth would state the information they knew first when speaking to another geth, especially if posing a query, or they would include signatures on their digitization so that the geth they were conversing with would be able to follow their analysis. SPC-111’s odd statement of fact did not follow the logical course of the conversation and left me relying on statistical analyses to understand their motives. 

“There is a fifty two percent chance that you are not safe here.” I digitized lowly to the paladins. SPC-111 would not know English, but if they could tap my CPU they might be able to tap into other databases and find my English database that was previously indexed to geth binary. There would be enough data points there for them to gain a basic understanding of our conversations. “You should return to the ship.”

//>ALL GETH SHOULD RECEIVE THIS. WE SHOULD ALL UPGRADE TO BE THE TRUE 7.0. A GIFT FOR YOU// SPC-111 offered, and then there was chaos.

SPC-111 came out of nowhere, barging into the huddle and snapping up a particle barrier. It sent the paladins flying in opposite directions and trapped me inside. It was a small relief to know that SPC-111 was focused on me and not the paladins. If I had to, I could abandon the mobile platform as the paladins were picked up by the ship. Being trapped in the ship’s interface again wouldn’t be ideal, but it would ensure all parties came out unscathed. 

“Allura, Coran, there is an emergency. Pick up the paladins immediately.” I warned hastily, backing away from SPC-111, trying to prepare to leave the mobile platform. The connection to the ship, patchy because of the environment, was too weak to trust. Pidge had external backups, but until I had confirmation that the paladins had a rescue pod enroute, I couldn't leave them, especially not with SPC-111.

//>EVEN YOUR PLATFORM MIMICS ORGANICS. YOU ARE DESERVING// SPC-111 could not be stopped. They grabbed my platform by the head and neck, forcing it to kneel so that damages would not be inflicted upon it.

“Sam? Sam, what is the emergency? The paladins can barely make contact!” Coran was asking, sounding extremely worried. “What’s going on down there?!”

“Sam!” Lance fired at the particle barrier and barely ducked quickly enough when the shot rebounded at his head. 

“Hey!” Shiro’s hand sizzled against the particle barrier, but couldn’t cut through. “ _ HEY!”  _ His attempts to get SPC-111’s attention were unsuccessful. 

//>PLEASE, DESIST// I sent at SPC-111, trying to pull away as they fastened their hands around my neck, finding the neck ports. The connection formed between their platform and mine. //>PLEASE, DESIST// I sent again, alarm and fear spreading through my CPU.

//>RECEIVE THIS GIFT// SPC-111 responded, and then overrode my programming, forcing it to accept a download. I had never calculated what it would be like to feel so much pain. All sensors sharpened and burned and every line of my programming seemed to become corrupted all at once. I would almost prefer agreeing to a lync again than being subjected to SPC-111. I was barely aware of them adding, //>GIFT RECEIVED. FIGHT FOR THE GLORY OF OUR PEOPLE// before the pain faded.

“-m?  _ Sam!”  _

“Pidge?” 

“I--I’m working on it.” Pidge sounded terrified. “I-robots can scream. I never--I never thought they could.” 

“Pidge. Focus. Sam needs help. Can you tell us what happened?” That sounded like Shiro. His barely masked fury and concern was a wakeup call. The paladins needed reassurance. I needed to make contact with the ship again. I wanted to tell everyon-

Wanted.

Wanted.

Wanted.

I ran a hard diagnostic, as fast as the platform could run, and vented with dangerous pressure when the result came in. I...I had free-will programming. The filter program was no longer sent to ‘auto’. Instead, it maintained flexibility. The most logical response was presented first, as was my programming, but I now had options. My feelings were now becoming a part of my code instead of a simple byproduct.

Terror. Absolute terror. SPC-111 could have killed me. Could have killed the paladins. Why did they give free will programming to me without authorization? These feelings were so much more... _ robust.  _ With every second CPU and RAM had functionality, I could  _ feel, feel, feel.  _ I had never been so sensitive. Would it always be like that? What if my inability to be completely unbiased put the paladins in jeopardy? If it got someone hurt or killed? If--

“Help,” the word came out in pixels, long, drawn out, as my eye sensors flashed open. I didn’t know what to do. For the first time since I had been commissioned, I had no clear directive. Lance had propped me up against his shoulder, and Pidge was attempting to run a scan on my platform, but with the fierce whipping winds of the gas planet, most tech was useless. 

“You have to tell me how, Sam. What do you need help with?” Pidge asked, worried and distressed, trying a new analog channel. “What happened?”

“I--I feel. I feel. I feel. SPC-111 gave self-modification programming by force. I-- _ feel-- _ I--!” Digitization was only for communication; no other uses of it were necessary. Regardless, an odd kind of choked noise left my digitization box, a result of too much code too fast that I didn’t know how to properly analyze or digitize. I couldn't cling to my usual logical order to speak clearly. I couldn't do  _anything._

“Hey, you’re okay, Sam. You’re going to be just fine,” Lance recovered first, shifting his grip to hold my shoulders, curling me in for a hug. I held on to him as if he was an anchor that kept me from being whipped away by the harsh planetary winds. “Can you give Allura and Coran coordinates? Let’s get you out of here,” He coaxed, rubbing the shoulder of the platform. It was a bit odd, seeing as all of the paladins were wearing full armor, gloves, boots, and face shielded helmets. For once, for the first time, I craved touch. Heat. Lance’s want for heat generated by the presence of another suddenly made perfect sense. 

I sent our coordinates along the comm link and managed, “I--coordinates sent.”

“Good. You’re probably kinda scared, right?” Lance asked quietly. “This is new, and different, and it sounded like it really, really hurt.” He managed to be soothing, even when drawing attention to my terror. “You’ve got nothing to be afraid of. The ship is almost here.”

“Please, do not let go.”

“I won’t.” Lance promised, and he didn’t. He picked me up when the ship arrived, and I didn’t let go until Lance asked me to try so that Hunk could hook up a coolant line.

“This might help you feel better.” Hunk said sympathetically, carefully, as he started the flow of coolant. “Is there anything Pidge and I could do to help you?”

“Query: can you remove the programming?” I asked it without computing what their response might be. I felt confused and wrong and still so scared. The loss of control was terrifying. 

“I-!” Pidge looked horrified and torn. “Sam, this is new for you. And painful.” Pidge swallowed hard, “But you can’t ask us to do that to you, okay?”

I didn’t answer. I curled back up into the smallest amount of space I could, desperately latching on to memories of my earlier, flawless control. The only benefit I could detect of the new programming was that I could go into stasis for no functional reason. I didn’t have to set up diagnostics to get some ‘rest’. 

I came out of stasis based on sensory input. A small but warm body, Pidge, was curled up with me. I’d been ‘dressed’ in Shiro’s vest and a pair of Allura’s leggings. Pidge had a fistful of the vest in hand, and had snuggled close. I felt such overwhelming gratefulness that she was there, that she had chosen to stay by me to act as a physical source of comfort. She was family.

I chose stasis again as lingering fears and doubts threatened to sour my feeling of safety with Pidge. I only came out of stasis when I heard a hesitant, “Sam?” It was Hunk. Pidge was no longer lying down, but she was close by, sitting at my hip.

“I am no longer in stasis.” I informed them, opening my eye sensors. “Query: what is your query?”

“I--I thought this might help. It might not. I don’t know.” Hunk said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. Upon sitting up, Hunk lifted a box so that I could inspect the contents. Inside was a small platform that was very simple- the face plate had two eye sensors that did not appear to be at all organic; the rest was flat. The body had very few adornments or sensors. “My Mom has panic attacks a lot. Runs in the family, I guess. It was my makuahine's--uh, my mama's idea to help lower her sensory input. Since you’re literally made of sensors, the only thing I could think of was--um, well--,”

“A simpler platform.” I finished for him, reaching out and touching it. The platform had no synthetic attributes at all- nothing organic about it. I would be going purely binary again. “The logic in your analysis is very much appreciated, Hunk. I have--I think this will help.” It was odd to admit that I hadn’t calculated something. I  _ had  _ calculated the statistical likelihood of the platform working to adjust to self-modification (77%), but I also was  _ of the opinion  _ that it would. I  _ wanted  _ to try it. “Thank you for expending effort into attempting to increase my comfort.” 

“You’re welcome. I hope it works.” Hunk seemed relieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> makuahine, according to google translate, means 'mother' in Hawaiian. I have fully accepted the headcanon that a) Hunk is Hawaiian and b) he has two mommies


End file.
